


Connection

by SosaLola



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SosaLola/pseuds/SosaLola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where metaphor is dead and reality is starting to creep in, where vampires are out and liked by the public, where slayers are hated and considered murderers, Xander and Dawn struggle to have a normal life away from the fight and temptation of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Fic:**  Connection ( written for [](http://fall-for-sx.livejournal.com/profile)[ **fall_for_sx**](http://fall-for-sx.livejournal.com/)  )  
 **Pairing:**  Xander/Dawn, Xander/Spike eventually  
 **Setting:**  San Francisco. Spoilers for S8 and S9, if you haven't read both and want to read this fic, [here's a recap of S8, which is all you need to know to understand this fic.](http://lusciousxander.livejournal.com/131736.html#cutid1)  
Big thanks to  **tempted2play**  and [](http://diebirchen.livejournal.com/profile)[ **diebirchen**](http://diebirchen.livejournal.com/) for the much needed editing. 

 

**  
Chapter One:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Xander dragged himself into his apartment, already shrugging off his jacket. The silence that greeted him was consistently interrupted by the tapping sound of Dawn's fingers typing restlessly on the keyboard. Another day without his usual dose of Dawn's sweet hugs and kisses. He resentfully kicked the apartment's door shut.   
  
"Welcome home," Dawn's voice drifted from the couch somewhat distant and unfocused. Now she was banging on the keys as if she were on a vengeance mission. Her paper was due tomorrow, and knowing her, she was probably rewriting it for the tenth time. She was as much a nerd as Willow used to be back in high school – which was nostalgically endearing, but unsettling.   
  
He dropped his briefcase and jacket to the floor, hoping she'd notice and get angry at him. His stomach roared when he picked up the luscious smell of macaroni and cheese wafting from the kitchen area. Still on the stove, either Dawn was waiting for an overcooked meal or she'd cooked it last minute. Bottom line was, he'd be eating macaroni and cheese for the third day in a row, which was serious Dawn sloppiness, especially after weeks of eating delicious home-cooked meals produced from experimental recipes.  
  
He grabbed a plate from the cupboard on his way to the oven and lifted the lid off of the food, hot vapors slapped his face and his stomach growled more. It looked about ready to be devoured, so he reduced the temperature to moderately low and started filling his plate.  
  
He placed his dinner on the table, then took hold of the last cola in the fridge. Cracking it open, he placed the can next to his plate. He shoved a spoonful of macaroni into his mouth and chewed loudly, staring at Dawn.   
  
There was no doubt she had been sitting like that all day, her crossed legs must have gone numb by now and her thighs were probably irritated by the laptop heat. She did look adorable with her hair pulled up in a tight bun, leaving her face wide open to reflect her serious expression. When her thin brows met in a frown, he felt a pang of regret at his childish thoughts and behavior. A smile lifted up the corners of his lips when she noticed him staring at her, and clear blue eyes stared back at him in confusion.   
  
He lifted up his cola can. "Here's hoping it's an A plus."  
  
Her lips broke into a sheepish grin. "Oh, sorry, I haven't..." She started rubbing her eyes in apparent exhaustion. "God, I've been typing all day. I can still hear the clicking in my head."  
  
"Like throwing pebbles at a brick wall."  
  
She threw an apologetic smile and returned her gaze to the laptop screen, though her hand wavered over the keyboard, obviously cramped from typing for too long.   
  
"Speaking of brick wall, I think I'm gonna be promoted to crew chief soon." He shoved another spoonful of macaroni into his mouth and swallowed fast.   
  
"Really?" Her face lit up in a way that made him chuckle softly. "That's huge news. The kind worth mentioning at the door before the 'jacket and briefcase in-waiting-for-Dawn-to-pick-'em-up' dropping." She lifted her eyebrows and gave him a look.   
  
He chuckled again. "I thought you wouldn't notice."  
  
"This is a major paper I'm turning in tomorrow. Stop being a jerk."  
  
"Sorry." She'd been working so hard on her schooling, especially given that she had to repeat her freshman year after the gigantic fiasco of last year. Not funny pun unfortunately intended.   
  
She sighed, letting the matter slide. She had already landed the role of the mature partner in their relationship. "Good thing you didn't need to start all over."   
  
"Yeah, after losing everything in the castle explosion last year, including my ID, I was really worried about work. An eighteen year old pizza boy is natural but a twenty-five year old pizza boy just puts pathetic in a whole new level."   
  
She smiled. "Thank God things didn't go to that direction."  
  
"All I needed was to give the names of previous employees and answer some technical questions and the job was mine." He swallowed another bite and went on with his mouth full, "Now I have a brand new shiny ID, and with my new dashing eye-patch it looks twice as cool as the old one. So the explosion was really to my advantage."  
  
Dawn frowned. "I won't call the death of seven slayers an advantage."  
  
He bit on his lower lip. "And the award for the asshole of the day goes to…"  
  
Her frown dissolved into a look of sympathy. "You were also about to be killed that day, too."  
  
"And you saved my life," he said with a loving smile.  
  
Her cheeks pricked with a rosy color and she swiftly returned her attention to the laptop screen. She let out a moan: "God, my hand hurts."  
  
"Take a break and come eat with me."  
  
She placed her laptop aside giddily and trotted to the kitchen area. His smile as he watched her settle next to him with a full plate was lost when she grabbed his Cola can and poured the remaining liquid into an empty glass. He watched her throat work as she drank some of the cold fluid in rapid swallows.   
  
Here he was in a brand new relationship, all with the sharing and providing and planning for the future of two. Kinda like what he had with Anya… but it was a little different this time.  
  
She took a bite of her food and flashed him an approving grin. "Tastes the best tonight."   
  
He was dating Dawn, five and a half years younger than himself and centuries younger than Anya. He was dating the girl he'd baby-sat for six years. Some would think that playing house with Anya was the more natural and easier deal, since she'd been a grown woman, with an income and more experience in life. Now he was the only one fending for the family, and this new girlfriend had more needs for money: school; food; clothes.  
  
Dawn had offered to get a part time job, but he declined. Buffy –until she'd dropped out- and Willow had gone to college without working part time, he'd made certain that Dawn had that, too.   
  
Things would go financially smoother now that Buffy had moved out of their apartment. He eyed the couch where Buffy had crashed over the past few months. One less mouth to feed. A mouth that was probably spouting puns at some stray vampires at the moment. His lips twisted slightly, except their corners turned up in a forced smile when Dawn looked at him.   
  
"I promise, we'll be eating something different tomorrow," she said. "And then, you'll start picking up after yourself."  
  
His gaze drifted to the jacket and briefcase ditched on the floor. "Yes, Mom," he said sheepishly.   
  
"And I think it's time to stop hiding my laptop charger."  
  
"Can't help the resentment." He pouted. "You've been spanking those keys for days."  
  
Her sly smile stunned him. "All the better to practice spanking you with, my dear." She leaned forward giving him a peck on the lips.   
  
Shit, now he wanted her wearing a red hooded cape. Or was it he who should wear it? Dawn in a wolf suit. A sexy wolf suit. Now a peck on the lips was  _not_  enough. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into a deep kiss, passionately pushing his tongue in, taking pleasure in the taste of his dinner in her mouth. He freed her long hair from the tight bun and enjoyed its silkiness as it ran between his fingers.   
  
She broke away from the kiss with a hard nip to his lower lip, her earnest blue eyes staring straight into his. This was what heaven felt like, so perfect and simple. A life dipped into endless bliss in the arms of a woman who loved and treasured him. A life far away from danger, death and the complications of the demon world. A life that suited him the best, the one Anya had always claimed was meant for him.   
  
If only it made him happy.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~


	2. Connection

  
  


**Chapter Two:**

  
  
  
  
  
The door swung open before he knocked, causing him to jump back startled. Buffy's weary eyes grew wide, and thanks to her nifty reflexes she stopped herself before she knocked him over.   
  
"Xander?"  
  
He blinked briefly and then held up a sharp stake to her vision. "At first, we were going to trash it, but we figured you'd need it."  
  
She snatched the stake and hid it in her jacket. "Xander!" She fixed him an admonished stare. "The people around here are very snoopy." She directed her gaze behind him at the people in the street. A group of teens were literally gazing right at them. Another reason to dislike living in an apartment complex with open areas; feeling exposed in his own hallway. Obviously, Buffy didn't have much of a choice. San Francisco came with a very high cost of living, and with a waitress salary, it wasn't surprising that Buffy could only afford living with two roommates in a second-rate apartment,  _and_  in the smallest bedroom.   
  
"Also," Buffy added, drawing his attention away from the nosey teens, "the roomies aren’t in the know. As  _you_  know."  
  
"Sorry, the whole secret identity stuff is so last century." He narrowed his eyes at her practical clothes and her hair, which was tightly pulled into a practical ponytail. "Out to slay?"  
  
"Slay?" A male voice drifted from inside. "Is that what the kids say these days? No more painting the town red?"  
  
Xander smirked at Tumble's beardy face. His zen-like persona and red hair reminded him so much of Oz, whom he hadn't talked to since they'd left Tibet. Maybe he should give him a call once he got home. After all, the guy had been there for them when they needed shelter. It would be in bad taste not to contact him after turning his peaceful life upside down.   
  
"A town is too big," Xander said. "She's mostly killing clubs."  
  
Tumble released a laugh. "Doesn't surprise me. After that wild party, she's been going out every night and coming back with torn clothes."  
  
"All requirements for a good night-out."  
  
"Hey," Buffy exclaimed, glaring at both of them. "I'm just out for a walk. There's no killing of clubs of any kind. And I won't be painting the town with any color."   
  
Xander smirked. "Except dust."  
  
She threw him a glare, clearly not amused, and then turned to her roommate. "Did you want something, Tumble?"  
  
"Just wanted to ask if you'd like some ramen." Tumble shrugged. " _The Terminal_  is on at nine, but since you're going out…"  
  
"With Xander," Buffy cut him off, grabbing Xander's arm and pulling him to her side. "I'm going out with Xander. He came to pick me up."  
  
Tumble frowned, looking at them both with a raised eyebrow. "I thought Xander was your sister's boyfriend."  
  
Buffy let go of Xander's arm at once, but then apparently changed her mind and pulled him back to her with determination. "And my long time best friend," she stressed, sounding somewhat offended. "We've been killing clubs since before he met my sister."   
  
Xander flashed Tumble a grin.   
  
Tumble shrugged again. "Cool. Maybe you can bring me back a cute she-vampire and she can paint my neck red."  
  
Xander and Buffy's response was unblinking eyes.   
  
"Too much?" Tumble laughed sheepishly. "Better go in and cook that ramen. Anaheed will slay  _me_  if she returns and doesn't find it all hot and tasty." He saluted them and walked inside. "See ya."   
  
After the door was shut, ensuring they were safe to discuss whatever private topic they wanted, Xander looked at Buffy. "Fun roomy."   
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow, probably mistaking his comment as sarcasm. "He ain't a Kathy."  
  
"Or a Spike," he said with emphasis, knowing that he'd win any future debates about who had the worst roommate. "Hey, I thought you said your roommates don't know about vampires."  
  
"They don't know about me being a slayer," Buffy said. "You know how popular slayers are these days."  
  
"All thanks to Harmony's ditzy reality show."  
  
"Good thing it got cancelled."  
  
"It would have been great if she wasn't in  _Dancing with the Stars_  now," Xander lamented. "I miss that show."  
  
Buffy smiled and lowered her gaze, her hand going inside her jacket probably feeling the stake hidden in there. He involuntarily started humming to break the awkward silence. The last time they'd talked was at Buffy's house warming party, alone in her bedroom. He was holding a glass of fruity punch with Buffy's hand on his arm. He had let his guard down and let go of the mask he firmly wore in front of Dawn and everybody else. If Dawn knew… he wasn't sure how he was going to handle it.   
  
Buffy picked up on his change of mood, looking up at him with concern. "How are you doing?" she asked softly.   
  
He shrugged. "Dawn is good. Work is good."  
  
"And you is…?"  
  
He tried to go for a lopsided grin and a joke, but doing that with Dawn was tiresome enough. "No change."  
  
She reached out, holding his arm in the same spot she had that night at the party. "Do you want to talk about it now?"  
  
He placed his hand on hers, gently pushing it away. "Not really."   
  
Hurt crossed her features for a split second, but she masked it with a fake smile. She was as good at hiding as he was: "So, what brings you here?"  
  
"The stake," he answered simply.   
  
She placed her hands on her hips with a smirk. "If you were planning on using it, then why did you give it to me?"  
  
"You stole it from my hand. In a very ill-mannered fashion." He blinked, feeling a burst of anger in the pit of his stomach. "And what do you mean planning on using it? I swore off that life, remember? I'm living it normal, like I'm supposed to."  
  
"Xander…" Buffy attempted to touch him again, but he took a hasty step back. She glared at him and threw her arms in the air. "If you wanna go patrolling with me, there's nothing wrong with that. I know I'd love to have company."  
  
The anger started coursing through his veins, taking over his body. "Yeah, Buff, because it's always about you, isn't it?" He spat the words and started towards the exit.   
  
"Xander…" From her tone he could predict all kinds of actions that went with it: eye-rolling; an attempt to heave a tired sigh; a grunt of annoyance. All actions that made him quicken his pace, wanting to get away from her, from her life, from who she was. If he didn’t, he'd cave in, he knew he would.  
  
Striding down the empty streets in the dark, the night would have had another feel to it if he was alone. With an irritated huff through his nose, he stopped suddenly and turned around. She was right behind him. "What are you doing?" The hint of childish whining in his voice almost drove him bonkers.   
  
The way her bored eyes looked at him didn't help him one bit. "I'm making sure you get back home safe."  
  
"You don't have to." He continued down his path, but was stopped by an iron grip that pulled him back and spun him around to face Buffy's determined face. He was about to bark at her when she pulled out the stake he'd brought her out of her jacket and handed it to him.   
  
"I don't need it," he said gruffly, even though he was still holding on to the stake.   
  
"There are vampires out there, you know."  
  
His narrowed his eyes at her. "I bet you're glad there are."  
  
He heard a sudden sound behind him of something landing on the ground. Turning around, he saw nothing, but heard a soft chuckle. "She should be," a cocky voice spoke. "Especially since one of them is out there with handy information."  
  
Shit. The last thing he needed was dealing with the obnoxious know-it-all right now. Spike did his stepping out of the dark shadows thing gracefully, though without the tossing his fag to the pavement and stomping on it part.   
  
Buffy threw her head back in irritation. "Can you stop doing that?"   
  
"Can't blame him, Buff," Xander said, feeling himself relaxing a little bit now that the tension between him and Buffy had been interrupted. "You become a vampire, you get all the perks: craving blood, fangs and bumpy foreheads, and a master's degree in the skills of stalking."  
  
Spike tilted his head with an unimpressed stare. "Cute."   
  
Buffy crossed her arms, straightening her back. "So, have you really got something handy? Or you're here for your twelfth "Something is coming.""   
  
"Well, something is," Spike replied defensively.   
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Not handy."   
  
Spike's brows furrowed in disapproval. "Would you take this seriously?"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "God, you sound a lot like Gi…" she trailed off, blinking down at her feet. Xander swallowed when she directed her gaze at him, her eyes lost and misty just like the way he felt on the inside.   
  
She was able to pull herself together faster than him. Looking at Spike with poise she said: "So what do you want?"  
  
The trace of sympathy, that was still apparent in Spike's face, wasn't reflected in his voice, "I thought I'd look about for that whatever's coming, so I won't bore you with more warnings."   
  
Buffy didn't have anything to say to that, and they were stuck in the awkward silence again. Xander shifted his weight to the other foot, drawing Spike's attention to him. He wasn't surprised to see a bit of relief in Spike's features when he remembered he was here, obviously not because he liked having him around, but to use him as distraction. "That's a picture I didn't expect to see."  
  
Bingo. "What?"  
  
"You and a stake. Thought you finished with this life style. Not that you were ever a match for it from the start."  
  
A dig at the Xand-man. Best way to get out of an awkward situation. He remembered when Spike's words used to get under his skin. He used to be such a dumb-ass back then. "How about you go and bug someone else, Spike?"  
  
Spike scoffed. "The bug jokes are way past stale, mate."  
  
"Yeah, Xander, don't bug him up," Buffy said, stifling a laugh. Xander grinned at her.   
  
A jaw in Spike's muscle worked. "Bugger off," he said in annoyance, smacking his head when he realized what he said. "Bollocks!"   
  
Xander and Buffy exploded in laughter.   
  
"Bollocks."  
  
Xander started waving him off. "No matter how many times you curse, it won't change the fact that you're the bug queen."   
  
"No, you tosser!" Spike snapped, pulling him to his side and pointing a finger at something in the distance. "Bollocks," he stressed.   
  
A young man was running toward an alley with a few vampires chasing after him. Xander lost his smile straight away, knowing he wasn't supposed to be out at this hour of the night. Unlike the naive media and rest of normal folk, he clearly knew that vampires weren't the bunch of misunderstood, lonely creatures Harmony had depicted in her reality show. He glanced at Buffy, watching her exchange a look with Spike. Time to slay.   
  
"Xander," Buffy said as Spike hurried toward the alley. "Don't just walk home." She narrowed her eyes. "Run."  
  
And Xander did. He started running as quickly as possible toward the direction of his apartment, knowing that no matter how many of those vampires there were, Buffy and Spike could handle them by themselves. It was their gig, not his. All he needed right now was to curl up in bed with Dawn and get to sleep early for work tomorrow.   
  
He stopped in his tracks when Buffy's scream broke through the night. Trying to catch his breath, he went sick with dread. There weren’t more than five of those vampires, Buffy wasn't supposed to cry out in an anguished scream like that. By now, for Buffy, fighting a pack of vampires was nothing but exercise. He looked back over his shoulder at the alley, swallowing hard. Everything was still and dark, though he could faintly hear the sounds of punching and kicking. The sounds of fighting were, he supposed, being muffled by his heart thumping loudly in his ears as gruesome images went through his head.   
  
Feeling the wooden stake in his grip, he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back. He couldn't just run away. Eyes snapping open with determination, he started running toward the alley everyone had disappeared into. He wasn't sure what he was going to do or even if it was a good idea; would his help actually be needed or would he be in the way? But this was  _Buffy_.  
  
Ahead of him, there they were, although the vampires only numbered four now, excluding Spike. Xander's eyes searched for Buffy through the mass of kicking and blocking. There was no sign of the man who was being chased earlier. A vampire exploded revealing a worn out Buffy standing behind him, she was holding her side as blood streamed through her fingers.   
  
Xander clutched the stake in his hand but didn't move. Buffy and Spike were handling the fight well, despite Buffy's injury.   
  
Buffy weakly avoided a kick, grimacing as she turned around to face the vampire. But when she noticed Xander standing nearby, she froze in place, her eyes widening with irritation and fear. "Xander, what…?" She couldn't finish her sentence because the vampire she was fighting tackled her.   
  
Xander didn't waste a second. He jumped at the vampire on top of Buffy and planted his stake in its back, driving the wood through the heart. The vampire exploded in a flash, his dust soared into the air covering Xander all over, some of it even going into his eye. He hissed in irritation, rubbing his eye with his dirty fist. Shit, the thought of a dead someone's ashes all over him repulsed him. He'd been helping Buffy stake vampires for years, but he'd never thought about it this way.   
  
Spike's voice came from his right, faint but growing clearer as he went on, "That bloody wimp ran away like a bat out of hell." He walked into the alley with a snort, but his closed body language muted instantly when he looked at Buffy partially shielded from view by Xander.   
  
Xander spun around, finding Buffy on the ground clutching her side and biting her lower lip. Spike was by her side in an instant. "What happened?"  
  
"One of them stabbed me in the gut when I was busy with the other two." She turned to Spike when he crouched next to her. "It'll heal."   
  
When she looked at Xander, her features softened and she smiled gratefully at him.   
  
Something inside tightened, a new rush of feelings he shouldn't feel. Not anymore. He was done with this, wasn't he? He should be back in his apartment with his  _girlfriend_. "I… have to go," he stammered, already walking away.   
  
"Spike, follow him." He could hear Buffy demand from behind him and quickened his pace.   
  
"I won't leave you here."  
  
"I'm a slayer. I'll be…."  
  
The voices weren't so clear as he continued to speed further away, holding the stake so hard it was about to break.   
  
He stopped with wide eyes, looking down at the stake. He looked back at the alley. No, not going back in there. Should he throw it on the pavement or in that trashcan? With a shuddering breath, he started walking home, clutching the stake in his hand. Firmly.  
  
  


~*~*~*~

 


	3. Connection

  
  


**Chapter Three:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
The ceiling was green and bland, like a blank green page that would inspire no one sans a poet in the Victorian age. Or was it the age before that? Whatever age it was when poets loved writing about nature and spring. And Xander was neither a poet, nor a Victorian, nor a nature-obsessive. He was a very conflicted man with conflicting emotions. He knew that he should be upset about not finishing the new shift schedule for the crew; after all it was supposed to be ready for work tomorrow.   
  
"You're awake?" Dawn's voice came low and drowsy. Her silky hair was tugged behind her ear showing only her heavy-lidded eye, since the lower half of her face was hidden in her fluffy pillow.   
  
He smiled, looking at her sleepy half face. "Just thinking."  
  
"About what?"  
  
He bit his lips to prevent a suffering sigh from escaping them and looked back at the ceiling. "Nothing in particular."   
  
"Liar. What is it?"  
  
She saw right through him, which made him a dead man. He couldn't tell the truth, couldn't risk hurting her feelings or making a big mountain out of a molehill. He knew she wouldn't take the truth well.   
  
"Don't think I didn't notice you spacing out lately," Dawn said, levering herself up on her elbow, sleep leaving her eyes at once. "I wouldn't have worried, except you've been doing it during food time. That's bespeaks serious Xander damage."   
  
A laugh escaped his mouth. "Nothing's going on."  
  
She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "See…" Her finger pointed at her face. "Worry. Expression of worry."   
  
He held her hand on his chin, squeezing it, before pushing it away gently. "It's just…" His mind began racing with excuses, all of them were true concerns that would hurt her. "I don't know if I can deliver at work the way I used to do before."  
  
Her hard stare softened into a look of genuine concern. "Why not?"  
  
"New place, new crew, everything's different." He wasn't lying. Work was one of his many dilemmas, but not exactly in the same way he put it. He could see from her expression how her mind started running with different thoughts, so he took hold of her hand, this time squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm in a slump, but I haven't lost my mojo. No broken seed can take that away from me."   
  
She attempted a weak smile before resting her head on his shoulder and snuggling against him. He nuzzled her hair and sniffed the fresh smell of watermelon shampoo, he was unable to resist the urge to comb her smooth hair with his fingers. The soft sigh she released made his lips curl up into a small smile, as did the butterfly circles she was drawing around the buttons of his pajamas. She tangled one of her legs around his, hanging on to him like her life depended on it. Something inside him swelled, something he couldn't explain, but it made him hate himself.   
  
With a strong desire to lighten the mood, he moved his hand from her hair downward to pull on the PJ bottoms she was wearing. "Hey, you know those are mine, right?" he teased tenderly.   
  
She snuggled closer into his chest. "But they're very comfy."  
  
"And too big."  
  
"I love your PJs," she whispered, looking up at him with sincere blue eyes.   
  
His heart started beating fast. "I wanna say the same thing about yours. But they're too small for me," he joked, yet the sparkle in her eyes died. He wanted to kick himself.   
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
It had been a week. A whole week where all he had thought about was that night in the alley. The rush and thrill of driving his stake into the vampire's back, the aching feeling of the vampire's dust in his eye, the gratitude in Buffy's smile. He kept sneaking into the bedroom whenever he found Dawn busy with something to gaze at the stake he'd hidden in his underwear drawer. He liked touching the sharp tip, letting it poke his finger, at times hard enough to bruise it.  
  
He knew the best way to live a nice normal life was to get rid of the stake. No troubling thoughts, no stupid fatalistic actions. Once the stake was out of his life, he'd live a happy, uncomplicated life.   
  
Unfortunately, there it was, hidden inside his coat as he stood in front of Buffy's apartment. His knuckles were bruised due to his continuous knocking.   
  
Suddenly, the door flew open, and he was about to knock Anaheed's glasses off her face. He took a hasty step back, his aching fist just hanging in mid-air. He twisted his lips into a sheepish smile. She frowned at him, readjusting her glasses. "We'd like to keep our door intact, please." She planted her hand on her hip. "You're Dawn's boyfriend."  
  
He'd already established that he liked Tumble better. "I am," he answered. "Is Buffy here?"  
  
Anaheed shook her head. "She always leaves at eight."  
  
"So that's a no."  
  
"Yes." Noticing that he was still standing in her hallway like an idiot, she clarified, "She's not here."   
  
Xander nodded politely, and the door slammed shut before he could thank her. He scratched his head, inwardly swearing that Anaheed had been way more civil at the party. Not that he'd talked to her or anyone else much that night, Buffy included.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
San Francisco at night was supposed to be less intimidating than Sunnydale. There were pretty lights all around, and there was the Golden Gate, which meant more lights. But Xander was not anywhere near the Golden Gate, and the streets he was walking along were as dark and foggy as their castle's halls had been back in Scotland. Not to mention, cold.   
  
He pulled his coat tighter around himself and stuffed his hands into his pockets, pacing toward his apartment. Ten years had passed, and yet he still hadn't learned that walking down the streets alone after sunset made him a vampire-magnet. Even though he'd initially thought that Buffy would be walking him home, he should have called a cab from Buffy's apartment when he discovered she wasn't at her place. Of all the nights to leave his cell phone at home.   
  
Look at the people walking down the street, he thought, pretty much clueless and naïve to the real nature of vampires. It showed how the media could bleach people's brains and reprogram them towards whatever it was selling. A glaring woman walked past him, making him step sideways cautiously. There were a few people scattered around this neighborhood, they might not look suspicious, but without slayer senses he couldn't be sure if they were people or vampires.   
  
Someone wearing a red baseball cap and jacket was striding down the pavement, causing Xander to reach for the stake inside his coat and brace himself. As the shadows around the person started dissolving, a face Xander knew very well snapped into focus under the streetlight.   
  
He let go of the stake and straightened his back in surprise. "Ro – Rowena?"   
  
She stopped walking and gazed up at him, saying nothing.  
  
"Wow," he said, a goofy grin spreading in his face. The last time he'd seen her and his slayer squad was at the airport in Tibet. Everybody was supposed to go to their homeland after the destruction of the seed. "Rowena, I haven't seen you in months. How are Leah and the others?"   
  
"Leah is vell. She's back in Scotland wid her family," Rowena's thick accent came out hollow and lifeless. "Anne and I share an apartment two blocks from here."  
  
Xander swallowed, just noticing the lack of expression on her face. "You live here? You didn't go back to Germany?"  
  
"You know vhy,  _sir_." He'd never thought he'd live to see the day when Rowena or any slayer who was under his charge would look at him with this level of disdain and anger. "Right. You're not "sir" anymore. You abandoned us, just like Buffy did."   
  
His heart twisted painfully. Not knowing what to say, he reached his hand tentatively towards her shoulder to offer a comforting squeeze. Before he made contact, her hand shot up and grabbed his in an iron grip. She clutched his hand so tight his fingers almost fell off; he let out a loud cry of pain before she pushed him to the ground effortlessly.   
  
With a painful hiss, he cradled his throbbing hand and looked up at Rowena. Her eyes gleamed with hate and disgust. "You used to be my boss back den, but I've always been stronger dan you."   
  
She walked past him and continued on her path, without even a backwards glance. The pain in his hand didn't compare to the pain inside. He'd never meant to betray them like that, never meant to just leave them all behind and sail off to live in domestic bliss with Dawn. Except that was what he had done. He had been so set on living a normal life that he'd forgotten he was responsible for more than fifty slayers.   
  
"What do we have here?" A sneering voice behind him startled him to his feet. "The guy who killed my buddy."  
  
Xander spun around to face the vampire who, he figured, was the one who had ran away that night. "Your buddy was about to kill my friend," he remarked, pulling out the stake. "And wait, since when did slaying vampires equals killing?" The last word was lost in the pained groan he released as a burning sting shot through his sore hand the second he grabbed the stake. He cursed under his breath when the stake slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.   
  
A creepy smirk played over the vampire's lips. "Wake up, champ. You're living in the brand new world." With inhuman speed, the vampire had him pinned against the wall. "We have the same rights as you do."  
  
Xander fought uselessly against the vampire's grip. "Not yet," he gritted his teeth. "But you do have a no-kill rule, can't bite humans unless they consent to it."   
  
The vampire tilted his head, gazing at Xander's neck. "Who says we weren't following the rules?"  
  
"The man you were chasing the other night didn't look like someone who paid to be bitten, and neither do I." Xander bucked against him, hissing when the vampire's large feet stepped on his own, keeping them in place.   
  
"It's all about picking the perfect time and place." The vampire's cold nose nuzzled his neck for a moment. "And that's when no one is around."   
  
Snapping his eye shut, Xander waited for the sharp pain to dig in. But instead, he was showered with puffs of dust, most of it exploding into his mouth and causing him to cough uncontrollably. On the plus side, however, none of the dust went into his eye.   
  
"Shouldn't you be in your bloody flat at this hour?"   
  
Great. Of all the people in San Francisco,  _Spike_  dusted the vampire. And now Xander knew that he would have to endure an hour-length minute of lecture on safety tips for people who were  _not_  slayers or vampires with souls. Xander, still coughing, opened his eye and saw Spike standing in front of him with a holier than thou expression. Spike's gaze glided to the stake on the ground and a look of disbelief covered his face. "You've got to be kidding me?"  
  
"Whatever you're thinking is not true," Xander said between coughs. He was able to compose himself after a couple of smacks on his chest. "I was on my way home when the vampire attacked me."  
  
Spike picked the stake off the ground and started flipping it in the air. "And what do you call this?"  
  
Xander lifted his eyebrows. "Protection?"  
  
Spike caught the stake and glared at him. "This is the second time I catch you with a stake outside in the dark."  
  
"Catch me with a stake?" Xander repeated mightily offended.  
  
Spike went on as if Xander hadn't spoken, "The first time you were smart enough to be with Buffy."  
  
Xander let out an indecorous laugh, gazing up at the dark sky in disbelief. "Yeah, sure, gotta have Super Spike holding my hand all the way home." He looked at Spike with his nostrils flaring. "I heard Buffy order you to walk me home like I'm some helpless puppy."   
  
Spike scoffed. "Is that why you go out at night? To be a hero?"  
  
Xander shook his head; feeling too exhausted all of a sudden to argue. He held up his hands in exasperation and started to walk away. "This conversation has gone on longer than it should. I'm outta here."   
  
"Don’t forget your weapon, big strapping hero."   
  
Xander hung his head, trying not to explode. He pursed his lips and turned around, attempting to catch the stake Spike tossed him but failing miserably.   
  
Spike pointed a finger and looked at him with piercing eyes. "Don't let me  _catch_  you out at this hour, eh? Don't want to waste my time saving your arse every night."  
  
Bending to pick up his stake Xander felt his lip twitch, and his hand fisted the stake tightly. His crushed hand cramped, and with a pained grunt, he let go of the stake. He glanced up and watched Spike retreating, his black duster fanning out behind him like a superhero's cape. Xander looked down at the stake on the ground and gritted his teeth so hard his gums started to hurt.   
  
  


~*~*~*~


	4. Connection

  
  


**Chapter Four:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Xander pushed the food around his plate a little. He wasn’t feeling hungry so he was unsure how he was going to eat all that. He hadn't been hungry for a while now, so much was going on in his head that it deprived him of the desire to eat Dawn's wonderful meals. Especially when tonight's dinner was his favorite: Mexican experiential dish number one. The first thing Dawn had cooked for him when they'd moved into this apartment as the happiest normal couple.   
  
"You're doing it again."  
  
His fork flew up in the air, knocking his full glass of cola down, and staining their table cloth. Xander bit his lip, meeting Dawn's irritated gaze.   
  
She heaved a sigh, looking down at her semi-empty plate. "I assume you didn't get your work-spark back?"   
  
Xander straightened his glass, before he pulled out a handful of tissues. He attempted to clean the table, but winced when he noticed the liquid dripping on the floor.   
  
"Xander," Dawn said sternly.  
  
He looked back at her, wiggling uncomfortably in his seat. "I, uh, ran into Rowena yesterday."  
  
Dawn's knitted eyebrows soothed a little. "Wasn't she supposed to be in Germany?"  
  
Xander rubbed his forehead. "She doesn't get along well with her folks. Her mother considers her career to be "running away from home," as Rowena put it. Her stepdad is a miserable drunk." He rested his forehead on his combined fists. "She was one of the many who considered the squad to be their family."   
  
He was surprised to find himself missing those nights when he'd sit with the girls, and they'd just talk and open up. He loved being there for them, listening to their issues, and helping them cope. He also revealed a little about himself, but not to everyone. Rowena was the only one he'd told about his home life. Buffy used to think it wasn't professional to be socializing with the slayers, but then she couldn't help getting closer to Satsu. They had been literally isolated from everybody whilst living in that castle, so it felt impossible to distance themselves from the sixty slayers living there with them. In a weird way, they  _had_  formed one big happy family.   
  
Dawn had been silent for a while, and Xander wondered what she was thinking about. He knew that while she had been a college student at Berkley, she hadn’t had as much to do with the slayers as he and Buffy had. He also knew that she was able to form friendships easily, once she had moved into the castle.   
  
"So," Dawn finally spoke, watching the cola bubbles dancing in her glass as she played with it. "Was she upset with you?"  
  
"Huh?" Xander's eye widened in shock. "How did you know?"  
  
"Simple." Dawn set her glass down and started cleaning up the table. "They're tracking Buffy down and trying to guilt her for breaking the seed and abandoning them. I expected they'd do the same to you." She placed her dirty dishes on the sink and turned to look at him. "You were their leader, too."  
  
Xander sprung into action when she reached for his plate, by grabbing his dirty dishes and taking them to the sink himself. "Yeah, I was. Just… never thought they'd feel  _this_ betrayed."  
  
"I think it's unfair," Dawn said. "You didn't betray them. The fight is over and you're allowed to live a normal life. After all, you never had powers to begin with."   
  
Xander's hand closed firmly around the sponge, and he watched as the bubbles poured out and covered his fingers.   
  
He felt Dawn enveloping him from behind, hugging him tightly. "Don't let them get to you. You're doing the right thing."   
  
He looked at her over his shoulder, his heart twisting at the love and gratitude in her eyes. "You helped me get back on my feet. When I left Berkeley I thought it was over for me. I thought… that I'd be a dropout like Buffy." She rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you. Thank you for helping me go back to college."   
  
He looked at her joined hands resting on his chest and cupped them with his own, squeezing gently.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Their neighborhood was eerily quiet; all the streets were still and empty with no one in sight. Xander gazed down at the closed bakery from the top of their building's roof; he was amused by the surrounding silence, given Mr. Hurst's non-stop angry screams. The man was so loud that his screams reached their bedroom easily, taking over the role of their much needed alarm clock after Buffy had moved out along with her nightmares.  
  
Xander sighed, watching his breath rise up in a puff of white vapor. "We definitely need to buy an alarm clock," he whispered to himself, shivering slightly when the breeze blew by him. He knew he should have worn real clothes before climbing up to the roof. Too worried that Dawn might wake up, he'd sneaked out through the window to the fire escape stairwells, in his slippers and bathrobe.   
  
More than half an hour had passed since he climbed up on the roof, moving from one side to the other, looking down at the streets surrounding the building. Dawn liked to believe that they were living in a safe neighborhood, but both of them knew that there was no such thing.   
  
Heaving another sigh, Xander gazed up at the clouds scudding across the pale moon in the dark sky. Dawn had been overly emotional tonight, but he wasn't sure if bringing up Rowena was the cause of it. Obviously, Dawn was happy with their life right now, but the affection and appreciation along with the best sex of his life… it was all too overwhelming.   
  
The sound of fast movements caught his attention. Xander raced to the other side of the building and noticed two men running. The man doing the chasing was clearly a vampire, and he was running after…  
  
Wait. Was that the same guy the vampires were hunting last week? Out alone in the dark night and getting into trouble again? What was he doing stomping through the dead zone? Probably for the same reason Xander did it with his stake tucked inside his coat.   
  
Xander grimaced. "Shut up, Spike."   
  
He paced to the fire escape stairwells, going down the stairs toward the apartment's window. He put on whatever ensemble was first out of the closet, all the time throwing swift glances at a deeply asleep Dawn. He then hurried out of the apartment.   
  
Obviously, the whole show must have ended before he stepped into the street, the poor reckless man must be a corpse by now. Still, if Xander was the one to help the man live to play another  _Catch Me If You Can_  with vampires, then that was what he would be. He hurried to the street that he'd spotted them on from the roof; knowing they wouldn't be there, but he could run toward the direction they had been headed. The deafening silence was worrying him though; there was no sign of life anywhere on these streets. He walked around the corner into an alley, always the best place to leave corpses, he mused.   
  
He scrunched up his nose at the whiff of something's pee and stale alcohol, and his stomach lurched at the stench. He squinted his eye when he thought he spotted something at the end of the alley. Quickening his steps, he found a dead body lying on the filthy ground. His stomach rolled and he thought he was going to puke. After all these years, the sight of the deceased still affected him.   
  
But, wasn't this the body of the  _vampire_  chasing after the man? Xander crouched next to the corpse and examined the face, realizing he didn't really get a good glimpse at the vampire's face from the roof, but the clothes and the light brown hair definitely belonged to the chaser. The man who liked being chased by vampires had a hair as dark as Xander's. This didn't make any sense, though. Unless this dead guy wasn't a vampire.   
  
"Creepy, right?"   
  
Xander let out a yelp and jumped to his feet, turning around to face a blonde woman wearing a duffle coat. She shook her head, looking at the body. "Vampires aren’t supposed to end this way."  
  
"Vampires?" Xander said, eying her with shock and suspicion. "You mean this guy was a vampire?" He looked at the body again in disbelief. That couldn't be true, vampires dusted when staked and did not fall down a lifeless shell.   
  
The blonde lit a cigarette and blew rings of smoke into the air. "So, what's your secret? How did you do it?"  
  
Xander pointed at himself. "Me? I didn't do this."  
  
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, somebody did." She indicated at him with her chin. "And you're the only one here."  
  
Xander's suspicions were growing stronger. The neighborhood was dead silent with no one in sight, it was an hour past midnight and almost everyone was home asleep. What was she doing out this late at night?   
  
Her eyes were examining him carefully, stopping at the stake in his hand. "Did you use that stake? What is it? Magic?"  
  
Xander scoffed. "Where have you been the last few months? There's no more magic since the seed was broken."  
  
The woman's eyes flashed yellow with hate. "By Buffy Summers."  
  
"Right," Xander said. "You're a vampire."  
  
"And you're a normal man." Her beautiful face shifted into the disfigured mask of a vampire, with her extending canine fangs glistening in the dark. Xander didn't wait to be attacked, he jumped at her first and punched her face watching her recoil but not lose her balance. Before she recovered, he kicked her in the stomach as hard as he could, sending her smacking hard against the wall.   
  
As an ex-leader, in a squad full of slayers, he'd spent most of his hours last year in the training room, getting in shape and improving his fighting skills. He'd sparred with slayers and had gone on patrols with them more often than not. Staking one vampire in a straight up fight should be a piece of cake right now, as long as he didn't give the vampire room to breathe.   
  
Holding up his stake, he leaped at her, positioning his stake to go through her heart. Suddenly, out of the blue, his stake went flying out of his grasp and sailed high into the air. Thrown back by her sudden kick, Xander froze in front of her disarmed and shocked. Seizing the moment, she pushed him to the ground and then jumped on him, pinning him easily underneath her.   
  
Despite her slender body, she felt as though she weighed more than a steel girder. Pushing her away was impossible. She flashed her white fangs again and was about to plunge them into his neck, while Xander desperately tried to deck her with his hands held firmly in place.   
  
Someone, as fast as the Flash, appeared at his right and stood behind her. Xander knew right away he'd be splashed with dust, so he pressed his eye and mouth shut and waited for the dustfall. There it was, like a vacuum cleaner spitting dirt all over him. As much as he hated being covered with dust, it was nothing compared to what was coming next.  
  
He opened his eye and was not surprised to see the gleaming yellow eyes glaring down at him. "Starting to really piss me off," Spike snarled, still in fang visage.   
  
Xander struggled to his feet, wiping the dust from his clothes. "I didn't ask for your help."  
  
The ridges in Spike's forehead melted as his face morphed into human features. "Without my help, you'd have been dead."  
  
Something inside Xander screamed, and he couldn't help the childish huff and the foot stomp. "You think I couldn't have taken her?"   
  
Spike pursed his lips, giving him a meaningful look. "I think you should be with your bird right now. That's where you belong."  
  
"Yeah, 'cause defeating a vampire is way out of my league. I'll have you know I have a whole year worth of training and sparring. I've slain more than a dozen vampires in Scotland."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm guessing you were backed up by a troop of intimidating slayers scaring off the beasties," Spike replied, shaking his head in exhaustion. "I don't know what your deal is, but I think…"  
  
Xander held up his hands. "Thanks, Spike, but I don't want to hear what you think." He walked to where his stake had landed, fetching it with aggravation. His gaze drifted to the still body of the deader vampire, and his annoyance melted into confusion.   
  
"Her victim?" Spike asked, and the stinky flair of smoke was back, albeit coming from another smoker. Did vampires take up smoking after they got sired? With dead lungs, why not?  
  
"No, she said he was a vampire, and someone did that to him."   
  
Spike stood next to him, observing the body. "A new big bad is looming on the horizon?"  
  
"Or good? Killing vampires is always good."  
  
Spike threw him a look.   
  
" _Soulless_  vampires who like sucking blood from unwilling donors."  
  
"Buffy needs to know about this." Spike narrowed his eyes at Xander. "Go home. Better stay out of this."  
  
He felt a rush of angry emotions going through him at the look of exasperation on Spike's face. "I found him first. It's  _my_  case."  
  
Spike threw his head back and blew out clouds of smoke. "I'm too tired for this." He gave Xander a pointed look. "I'm telling Buffy." He tossed the cigarette on the ground and twirled around, walking away.   
  
Xander spit out a laugh. "Whoa! Go on, Spike. Go tell Mommy on me."  
  
Spike waved a hand in the air. "Count on it!"   
  
Despite his ridiculing laugh, Xander felt his heart racing with panic. Obviously, Buffy wouldn't approve of his nightly activities, but that wasn't what terrified him. Buffy would tell Dawn. He could just picture the look on Dawn's face when she found out about this. He couldn't bear it. She must stay oblivious to whatever  _this_  was until Xander dealt with it himself.   
  
"Oh, a tip for the future."  
  
Xander jerked his head up to see Spike's shadowed figure at the end of the alley.   
  
"A year of training doesn't make you an expert. When you're in a fight you should always expect the unexpected." He walked out of the alley with his duster billowing behind him. Xander wasn't able to make out Spike's face in the dark, but for some reason he thought he'd seen a faint smile. Imagination, no doubt, coupled with an awful need for the eight hours sleep he was not going to get. He didn't need a watch to know that he only had a very few hours before work.   
  
Suddenly, Spike stuck out his head from behind the building. "And you better practice kicking higher than that. Looked like a bloody backhoe loader."  
  
Xander lifted his eyebrows in amusement. "You mean a backhoe. And it was designed to look like an arm, not a leg."  
  
"That's as much construction talk you'll be hearing from me."   
  
When Spike's head disappeared again, it was Xander's lips that curled up into a smile.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Xander was jerked awake by a couple of strong hands, gripping and shaking his shoulders hard and fast. He jumped out of his bed and stepped onto the floor. A sharp headache promptly stung him and his eye was glued shut, begging for more sleep.   
  
"Xander!" Dawn's razor-sharp voice zapped through his ear. "It's eight thirty! You should've gone to work two hours ago!"  
  
Xander's eye snapped open as if he were electrified. "God… God I'm late."  
  
He dashed to the bathroom, kicking his toe against the bed. "Ouch!" Grabbing his throbbing toe, he hopped on one leg into the bathroom with Dawn trailing after him.  
  
"When did you get to sleep last night?" she asked, concerned.   
  
"I had a very long shower." He scrappily splashed water on his face, most of it going everywhere but his face. Squeezing too much toothpaste onto his toothbrush, he brushed his teeth like a maniac. When he'd gotten home last night, he was so tired he’d flung himself on to the bed with his shoes still on. The second his head hit the pillow he had realized that he couldn't find a convincing lie to tell Dawn about why he was wearing a different outfit and smelling like cigarette. In a daze, he had dragged himself back out of bed and into the bathroom.   
  
Wiping his face, he was struck by his bare damaged eye. Cream, he thought, in need of cream. He started going in circles like a dog chasing his tail, looking for the cream. He stopped suddenly when he noticed Dawn calmly holding out the cream for him. "Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
He snatched the cream from her hand and started applying it around his eye socket. "C'mon, Dawn, I just overslept."  
  
She crossed her arms across her chest in a good imitation of Buffy. "I keep noticing that you haven't been as enthusiastic about work lately."  
  
Xander put down the cream and started looking for his eye-patch. "Who's ever enthusiastic about work?"  
  
"Well, you," Dawn said, waving his eye-patch in front of him. He took it with a grimace and put it on, walking out of the bathroom with Dawn right behind him, still talking, "Back in Sunnydale, all you spoke about was tools and carpentry."   
  
He was glad his work clothes were neatly folded on Dawn's dresser and without any more delay, he slipped them on. "It's been three years, Dawn. I just need time to get back on track."  
  
"And when will that be, Xander?" she said tiredly. He buttoned his shirt quickly, trying not to think about what she was saying. He needed to get out of here, and work wasn't the only reason.   
  
As he combed his hair, he felt Dawn's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I should be more supportive, but I'm worried."  
  
Grabbing his briefcase and construction map, he turned around and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. "Don't worry. Everything is gonna be all right," he said and then dashed out of the apartment as fast as possible.   
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

 


	5. Connection

  
  


**Chapter Five:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
"So, that'll be extra cheese for Buffy, extra pepperoni for Xander, and extra blood bags for Spike," Tumble said as he wrote down their orders in a small notebook. He looked down at them sitting in a circle in Buffy's room. "Anything else?"   
  
"That's about it." Buffy nodded with a grin.   
  
Xander uncrossed his legs when they started to cramp and stretched them out, one of them accidently plopping on Spike's lap. He grinned sheepishly when Spike flashed his yellow eyes at him and dropped his leg to the floor. They were inconveniently having their Scooby meeting in Buffy's tiny room, seeing as they couldn't get Tumble to leave the apartment. The poor guy was so hospitable he insisted he'd pay for their dinner. Xander could never turn down an offer involving free food, even though he could have had a healthier and more delicious dinner at home.   
  
Tumble scratched his forehead with the pencil, looking at Spike. "You sure you want pig's blood? I read on their website that they serve bags of human blood."   
  
Xander observed the silent comedic exchange between Buffy and Spike; Spike's hesitating glance turning into bugging out eyes and flaring nostrils after Buffy's eyebrow shot up in amusement. She was really good at getting on his nerves. Spike looked at Tumble with determination. "Switch to human blood."   
  
Buffy's eyebrow reached her hairline, and Xander snickered.  
  
"Willing donors," Spike protested. "Nice to know I don't have to visit the butcher shop for animal blood anymore."  
  
There were tiny grey crumbs on Tumble's forehead due to scratching it with the pencil's eraser for so long. "I think I better call the pizza place. I won't take long."  
  
"Take your time," Buffy piped up.  
  
"No need to rush." Xander pointed his finger at him in the shape of a gun and winked.  
  
Tumble nodded, looking somewhat confused, and closed the door behind him.   
  
"Subtle," Spike said sarcastically.   
  
Buffy jumped to her feet, and from the expression on her face, Xander knew she regretted moving so suddenly. "Okay, you guys came over unannounced for a Scooby meeting. Let the meeting begin." She limped to the bed and motioned with her hand for them to talk. "Go on, out with the necessary info."  
  
"I saw a corpse that belongs to a vampire last night," Xander said.   
  
Buffy lay down, her face a picture of discomfort, and began massaging her numb legs. "I thought all vampires are corpses." She glanced at Spike. "No offence."  
  
Spike shrugged. "The truth doesn't offend me."  
  
Xander shook his head. "Except vampires are re-animated corpses, with hideous, deformed faces."   
  
Spike pointed a finger at Xander with a glare. "Now  _that's_  offensive."  
  
Xander went on as if Spike hadn't spoken, "The body I found had a human face but belonged to a vampire."  
  
Buffy poured some lotion on her foot and began massaging it. "Let me get this straight, the vampire didn't end up a pile of poof but a dead body that doesn't move or talk."   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How did you know it belonged to a vampire?"  
  
Xander gave a halfhearted shrug and said weakly, "Another vampire told me?"   
  
She sat straight on bed, crossing her legs again. "We're taking an unreliable vampire's words on this?"  
  
"I checked him," Spike chimed in. "Old marks on the neck and nothing else."  
  
"He was running like a horse half an hour before I found him," Xander added. "Also, he was really fast. Vampire fast."   
  
Buffy looked between them with an even stare. "Why am I only being told about this now?"   
  
Spike shot her a look and tilted his head slightly to one side. "Have you checked your bloody mobile?"  
  
Xander nodded with a glare. "Repeating the same question but replacing bloody with freaking."   
  
Buffy's cheeks turned bright red and she scrambled across her bed to her nightstand, snatching her cell phone and looking at the screen. "Oh."   
  
"How many missed calls?" Spike muttered dangerously.   
  
Xander narrowed his eye at her, but his attempt at glaring failed due to his trembling lips and the little snicker that slipped out. He'd been there before. He'd switched his phone to silent at night and left it at home the next day when going to work. When he had come back from work, he was greeted with a very angry Dawn and the couch arranged for him to sleep on.   
  
Buffy shoved her cell phone under her pillow. "More important discussion at hand." She rose up on her knees and folded her arms across her chest. "Do you think the body is still there?"   
  
Spike shook his head. "No, I went back to check on it today." He lifted up his hands and wiggled his perfectly white fingers. Xander blinked at them, and then looked at Buffy, who was as confused as him.   
  
Spike looked down at his fingers and cursed. "They were crispy with burns all day."  
  
Xander sighed. "The advantage of vampire healing."   
  
Spike waved him off. "Anywho, the policemen were there, trying to get the press under control. Seems this town takes death more seriously than dear old Sunnydale."   
  
"So, there's no way to view the body now," Buffy said, scratching her head. The action caused her wide sleeve to slide down her arm and reveal her elbow.   
  
Spike's reply to that went unheard by Xander when he noticed a nasty bruise on Buffy's elbow. "What's that?"   
  
Buffy blinked before realizing what he talked about. "Oh, that's…"  
  
"Got into a fight with some angry  _not_ -slayers," Spike answered for her.   
  
Xander looked at Buffy with concern. He knew she used to be attacked by slayers during patrol, but last he’d heard Buffy had put them in their place. "I thought you said they're backing off."  
  
A small, bitter smile lifted up the corners of her lips. "Still angry. Decided not to learn their lesson."   
  
Something started swelling inside him. "Was Rowena one of them?"  
  
Buffy caught the fear in his eye and her smile became sympathetic. "No. I'm glad to say she wasn't. Being attacked by one of my favorite slayer-students would've been the last straw." She crawled to the end of her bed and slipped her legs down, sitting at the edge. "I betrayed the cause," she said with pursed lips. "Heard that speech a zillion times now."  
  
Xander got off the floor to sit next to her and placed a comforting hand on her own. "You saved the world."  
  
"Heard that one, too. Sadly, from a much lower number of people." She smiled sadly at him and Spike before looking down at the floor.  
  
Xander shared a look with Spike, when suddenly he felt his phone vibrating. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and brought out the phone. It was Dawn. Something heavy weighed down on his chest and he screened the call.   
  
"Who was it?" Buffy asked quietly when he put the phone in his pocket.   
  
"Some guy from work. Don't feel like taking it," he said and then squeezed Buffy's hand reassuringly.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
Xander threw himself down on the couch next to Dawn and felt a smile form on his lips as the TV screen showed JD waving to Turk and Carla from the hospital's window. This scene was a riot, this was the episode after Turk and Carla came back from their honeymoon. He snickered when Turk gave Carla a suppliant look and then burst into laughter watching Turk holler after Carla reluctantly gave him permission to run to JD.   
  
His laughter died, though, when he realized that Dawn wasn't much of a  _Scrubs_  fan. She found Dr. Cox' rants to be beyond the pale, the Janitor to be one-dimensional and Turk's bromance with JD to be insensitive because of…  
  
 _"Maybe someday he'll love me like that,"_  Carla said with a sigh leaning against the cab on screen.   
  
… that. He glanced at Dawn and noted that while her eyes were on TV, her mind seemed to be somewhere else. He grabbed the remote control and squirmed back into the couch to get more comfortable. "Are you even watching this?" he said lightheartedly.   
  
"No." Her voice came out dry and emotionless. "I'm thinking."  
  
"Can I change the channel?"  
  
"Yes," she said, sounding irritated. Xander started flipping through the channels, feeling the already thick tension in the room building even more. He desperately tried to ignore it, but unfortunately for him, Dawn wouldn't. "Aren't you going to ask?" she said piercingly.   
  
"Hmm?" His hand trembled slightly on the remote. One boring sitcom rerun after the other, nothing seemed interesting on TV.   
  
"About what I was thinking."  
  
Suddenly, a picture of the dead vampire from the other night filled the TV screen. He jolted up, letting the remote control slip from his hand. "Oh my God," he whispered in shock.   
  
"What?" Dawn asked, following his line of sight.   
  
On the screen, the local newscaster babbled about finding the body in the alley and the police investigating the crime, but what really interested Xander the most was the clear shot of the victim. Something Buffy wanted to see.   
  
"A dead body presumably killed by a vampire," Dawn said in boredom. "What's so shocking about that?"  
  
Xander jumped from the couch and dashed toward his cell phone that was charging on the kitchen bar. He snapped the charger out and started dialing Buffy's number.   
  
"Who are you calling?"  
  
"Buffy," he said, placing his phone against his ear. Buffy's number was busy.   
  
"Why?"  
  
He frowned, turning to see Dawn folding her arms across her chest. "What do you mean why?" he asked in confusion.   
  
"We're done with this," she said in a livid voice. "It's not our job anymore."  
  
The cold look in her eyes sent shivers down his spine. He put his cell phone down on the kitchen bar, his gaze not leaving hers. "Buffy needs to know about this," he said carefully.   
  
Her left eye twitched as he her lips curled in irritation. "Know what? Random person killed by a vampire?"  
  
"He wasn't killed by a vampire."  
  
She gestured her head at the television screen. "They found vampire-shaped bites on his neck."  
  
"But they’re old." Xander bit his lips when the words came out of them. He regretted his nervous reaction right away when he noticed her eyebrows furrowing.   
  
"How do you know?" she asked wryly.   
  
He remembered her phone call last night. The one he didn't answer. And then remembered the phone call he made after leaving Buffy's apartment. The one she didn't answer. He'd expected to find a pillow and a blanket waiting for him on the couch, but the couch was clear and his bedroom wasn't locked. He had found Dawn asleep on bed, giving her back to his side of them bed.   
  
He brushed his hair back, knowing that he was supposed to have this fight with Dawn on the couch minutes ago, because if they didn't deal with this now, it would only get worse. Instead of doing the sensible thing, he picked up his cell phone and looked at her apologetically. "I still think I should call Buffy."  
  
Her lips quivered slightly and her eyes became misty. "Whatever," she said softly. "Do what you want. I'm going to take a nap."  
  
He pressed his eye shut and focused on the dial tone coming from his phone, desperately trying to block the sound of Dawn slamming the bedroom door shut.   
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Another night. Another lie. He'd told Dawn he'd be meeting the same client at his house tonight and would have dinner over there. She had nodded silently and kept on clicking on her laptop. He shouldn't have let things get so strained between them, but the fear of being caught scared him silly. He still wasn't sure why he was getting involved in this, why he was still keeping the stake. Did he really want to be a Scooby? After everything that had happened? After the world was deprived of magic and had no use for him anymore?   
  
It wouldn't have been this big of a deal if  _he_  wasn't the one who had proposed to Dawn a normal life away from anything supernatural. Thoughts ran through his head like: 'History repeats itself,'; 'once a douchebag always a douchebag,'; or his personal favorite, the ancient wise words of one Britney Spears: 'oops, he did it again.' He had promised a lady commitment during an apocalypse and then wanted to go back on his word.   
  
He pulled over and parked his car in an open lot when the negative emotions started to well up inside him. If he were a vampire or someone with a slayer's strength, he'd have broken the wheel with his fierce grip. He did manage to bruise his lower lip by biting on it so hard he tasted blood. He should just turn around, drive back to his apartment, apologize to Dawn and vow to never hurt her. If he was anywhere near being the decent person he thought he was, he should make it up to Dawn and forget all about vampires, slayers and going out at night.   
  
But he couldn't bring himself to do that. He just couldn't. He'd lost the passion he thought he had, to be brutally honest he wasn't sure he had it in the first place. Not just Dawn, but also his job and his whole normal lifestyle. Things were way easier back in Sunnydale, when he had it all: Anya, his friends, a promising career, a beautiful apartment, a car, and Scooby meetings. It seemed like they'd lost their Scooby magic after the seed was broken, everybody wanted to move on, except Buffy. And now, apparently, Xander.   
  
He started bumping his forehead against the wheel, feeling the stinging of tears in his eye. His phone started vibrating, probably Buffy wondering where he was. Tonight he was going to be their wheel guy, which would probably be the start of his new nightly job. ‘Guy with the wheel’, his eighteen year old self would have been so pleased.   
  
"Holy shit!" Xander yelped, jumping in to the passenger seat when someone knocked on his window. With a wide eye, he stared into Rowena's face. She was outside the window glass, eying him with curiosity.   
  
He swallowed, feeling relief washing all over him. He moved back toward his seat and pulled down his window.   
  
"veren't you supposed to buckle up your seatbelt?" Rowena said.   
  
Xander brushed back his hair, panting slightly. "What are you doing here?"  
  
She shifted on her feet slightly. "Can ve talk?"  
  
He observed her face as he went on panting, and then nodded at the passenger seat. "Get in."   
  
He settled in the driver's seat, trying to calm his nerves and control his panting. So much for the night-hunter; shrieking like a kid with a heartbeat that banged like a drum, someone would think he'd never seen a vampire in his life.   
  
Rowena shut the passenger door and buckled up her seatbelt, reminding him to do the same. He'd been so on edge the whole day that he forgot the simplest things. He started up the engine and drove down the road. The streets weren't as dead as his neighborhood had been the night he found the vampire's body. People still wandered the streets, a few restaurants were open, and clubs were calling out to the young and restless.   
  
He glanced sideways at Rowena. She appeared different, less cold and more nervous than before. It was a welcome change,  _that_  Rowena scared the shit out of his normal-no-drawings-ain't-I-cool-and-mature boxers. She hadn't said a word since she had got in to the car. Maybe she wanted him to ask. "So, what do you wanna talk about?"  
  
Her fist closed around her other hand's thumb, her eyes were downcast, not daring to look at him. "Tings are getting out of hand."  
  
Eye on the road, he glanced at her briefly, and then back to the road. "What do you mean?"  
  
"De girls… dey're out of control."  
  
He felt his eyebrows drawing together. "The girls? Do you mean slayers?"  
  
When she didn't answer, he looked at her. "Rowena?"  
  
She hesitated, and then nodded.   
  
Her anxiety worried him, like she had the biggest and scariest confession and didn't know how to let it out. "I thought you and Anne were roommates…" A frightening thought jumped to his mind. "Rowena, don't tell me you were ganging up on Buffy with…"  
  
She looked taken aback by his accusation. "No, I could never…" She swallowed and looked away at the passenger window. "I know dose girls. And… dey're using deir powers as a way to release frustration." After another moment of hesitation, she looked back at him with pleading in her eyes. "Dey need to have a purpose again. Dey need guidance."   
  
He released a tired sigh, returning his gaze to the road ahead of him. "Rowena, I'm not…"  
  
"But here you are. Out on a mission," she insisted, her tone a mixture of insistence and blame. He could understand the blame. He deserved the blame, and not just from Rowena.   
  
"There's no mission," he reminded her gently.   
  
"But dere are still vampires."   
  
"This is something you should ask from Buffy."   
  
There was a short moment of silent. "Dey von't listen to Buffy."  
  
Xander barked a laugh that came out mirthless and bitter. "And why would you think they'd listen to me?"  
  
"Because… because you vere more than just our leader. You listened to us…you… " she trailed off, and then continued in a softer tone, "You treated us like family."  
  
If she thought she'd win him over by saying that, she was mistaken. Buffy's cloudy expression from last night came to his mind, making him resent Rowena a little. "Buffy did the same, too."  
  
"But she broke the seed. Dat's a deal breaker." She didn't sound nasty, just stating facts. Yet she managed to anger him a little.   
  
"I abandoned you, too." His voice came out hard and dry, causing her to sigh. For a couple of minutes it seemed like she gave up, no more perusing and puppy dog eyes, and it kind of let him down.   
  
Suddenly, she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Tink about it," she said, leaning against the door. "Can you stop the car?"  
  
Xander looked at his right. There were driving alongside a park and there was a building at the end of that park. "Is this where you live?"  
  
She didn't answer him, her hand appeared aching to open the car's door.   
  
A flash of anger gripped him, burning him on the inside. "You don't want me to know."   
  
"If you decide to help, I'll meet you at dis park tomorrow night at midnight," she spoke in a low voice, so low he couldn't make out her tone. Her eyes though, spoke volumes, a hardness and strength in them that he'd never seen before. An unexpected sense of pride mixed with sadness, welled up inside him, making him unquestioningly pull over and stop the car.  
  
She pushed the door open and got out, and when he thought she'd snap the door shut behind her, she stuck in her head with a serious expression on her face. "Tomorrow at midnight. It's your choice."  
  
He watched her shut the door and walk down the pavement, feeling a blend of conflicting emotions soaring inside him. He knew one thing, though, he wanted to go back home to Dawn.   
  
His phone started vibrating again, and without thinking he pulled it out of his pocket and was about to blurt out Dawn's name in relief.  
  
"There you are," Buffy's voice slammed into his ear, stunning him into silence. "Where are you?"  
  
He squeezed his eye shut in exhaustion; his hand went to rub his forehead. "I'm sorry, Buff. Something came up. Can't make it tonight."  
  
She tisked in his ear, causing a sharp headache that pierced the sides of his head. "Bailing on your first night at work? So not professional." He could sense the disappointment in her voice, like she had been looking forward to him joining her and Spike on patrol.   
  
"I'll make it up to you. Call you later." He didn't wait for her response, shutting his phone and starting up the engine. He needed to go back home. He needed to go back to Dawn.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
He found her in the same spot since he'd left her: middle of the couch; crossed legs; her laptop on her lap. She stopped typing at once when he came in, obviously not expecting him to come back so soon. He eyed the back of her head with longing, the way her hair was pinned in a tight bun, her favorite hairdo whenever she had an important assignment. His heart was beating with emotions he couldn't define, but all he wanted to do was to grab her in a hug and never let go.   
  
"Weren't you supposed to have a dinner-n-meeting at a client's apartment?" Her voice came from the couch distant and cold, depriving him of all the rushing emotions inside.   
  
She went back to typing, this time the tapping sound was stuttering and hesitant, not on-going and constant like usual. Coldness seeped into his heart, going all the way to his bones, freezing his limbs in one place and freezing over the longing and joy he had felt when he walked into the apartment.   
  
"Cancelled," he said briefly and quietly.   
  
The pace of her typing quickened although still wobbly, but it appeared she wasn't giving him her full attention anymore.   
  
He dragged his legs, holding in a sigh, and walked further into the apartment. Glancing at her on the couch, he found her face as hard as stone, making his heart twist a little. He looked at the bedroom door slightly ajar, some light from the living room was being shed into the darkness. Faint echoes of their previous nightly conversations, snuggled in bed, played in his ears like an old beautiful song he hadn't listened to in a while.   
  
He forced a sweet smile on his face and turned to look at her. "Why don't we go to bed?" He nodded toward the direction of the bedroom with an inviting smile.   
  
Her cold face went rigid with offence. "Either you went completely blind or you're deliberately ignoring the laptop on my lap."  
  
Taken aback by her reaction, he stared at her for a second until he finally realized why she was upset. "That's not what I meant."  
  
"I've got homework," she said callously, lowering her gaze to the laptop screen.   
  
He felt a deep searing hurt, as if she'd plunged her hand into his chest and ripped his heart out. His head hung in sorrow, and he shuffled into the bedroom dejectedly.   
  
"I've already ordered pizza. You can call Pizza Hut and add to my order." The coldness in her voice bled into his heart.   
  
"No thanks. Not hungry." His voice sounded as cold as hers, and his apathetic kick on the door caused it to shut with a hushed click that didn't disturb the bitter silence.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

 


	6. Connection

**  
Chapter Six:**

  
  
  
  
  
Xander tossed and turned in bed for the hundredth time; sweeping the pillow from under his head and covering his face with it in frustration. Enraged thoughts kept spinning and dancing in his mind, robbing him of his sleep and driving him insane. If only thoughts could be swatted like bugs – and wouldn't that thought offend Spike. Except that would imply that Spike actually  _liked_  his bugs. But then, why wouldn't he? Spike struck him as the type of guy who fancied being some big shot royal highness, probably to boost his damaged ego after the dark years of being chipped.   
  
The sudden rumble in his stomach was triggered by the delicious smell of greasy pizza that wafted from the living room. He heard the TV being turned on and Conan O'Brien's cheerful voice floated to his ears. He swallowed as the gnawing feeling in his stomach grew stronger. He hadn't eaten since lunch and the fight he'd had with Dawn this afternoon had kept him from munching his usual evening snacks in front of the TV.   
  
He tried ignoring the empty, wasted, gnawing pain of hunger, to focus on what had gotten him here in the first place. His usual jerk-assness. He should have been trying harder with Dawn, but he was too happy slipping away to lonesome night patrols that could get him killed. Could he be any more of a dick?   
  
He realized that he always did this. Whenever things went well for him, he'd ruin what he had by running after something or someone that was way out of his league. What was he thinking, going out at night like that? He stared at the drawer he usually hid his stake in – so driven had he been to throw himself into Dawn’s desirable embrace; that at the time, he had not cared that he’d left the stake in the car.   
  
He knew shouldn't care. That life wasn't meant to be his. That stake wasn't meant to be used by him. The whole thing was probably a minor fling, a short-lived fascination, something he'd almost gotten out of his system and now wanted to be done with. He moved his hand up to his face, his fingers barely touching the empty eye socket that was his permanent reminder of who he was, his abilities and inabilities.   
  
The bedroom door clicked open, and instinctively Xander's eye shut, tightly closed and his hand skidded underneath the covers. Realizing that he was acting like a four-year old boy pretending to be asleep so he wouldn't be scolded by mommy, he opened his eye, only to be blinded by the bright light surrounding Dawn. Darkness dominated the place when she closed the door behind her. She walked around the bed, untying her bun and letting her long sleek hair fall to the middle of her back. She slid into the bed and pulled the covers up over herself.   
  
Something heavy weighed down on his chest, and he couldn't breathe; it was as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out of the door when Dawn came in. Suddenly the room went icily cold, forcing him to huddle into the covers. He glanced at Dawn, giving him her back, looking like a statue of ice freezing his bed.   
  
"Dawn?" he whispered so quietly because of the fear he'd break the ice sculpture. There was no response, so he added after hesitation, "Can we please talk?"  
  
Short seconds of silence had passed before Dawn's shoulders shook slightly, and a faint moaning sound reached his ears.   
  
"Dawn?" He felt his heart drop when a couple of whimpers forced their way out of her, like she was unsuccessfully trying to stifle them. He crawled over to her and laid a comforting hand on her quivering shoulder. "Sweetie…"  
  
"Don't." His hand recoiled immediately, breaking contact at her hollow command.   
  
"Dawn…"  
  
"Don't touch me," she said through her tears. "Please, don't."  
  
She broke into heartbroken sobs that stabbed his heart like a dagger. So painful and dejected, he couldn't bear listening to them nor looking at her like that. He crept down the bed and after closing the bedroom door gently behind him, padded bare foot into the living-room. He throttled the urge inside him to kick the serving table as he walked past it to the couch. He crashed on to the couch and buried his face in his hands; dragging in a deep breath, he tried to pull himself together before he too broke into tears.   
  
With each sob that echoed from the bedroom, another small piece of his heart broke away. Lifting his stinging eye up to look at the blank TV screen, he let silent tears of despair slide down his cheek. He was an ass. He was an ass. He was an ass.  
  
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
A very faint muffled voice called him, like it was drifting from a far distance. Opening a groggy eye, Xander was greeted with an irritating dim light forcing him to blink his eye several times until it adjusted. He was able to make out the vague shape of someone looming over him. When the fog cleared, Dawn's grimacing face was in sight.   
  
"You didn't go to work," she said in an even tone that held a slight hint of disappointment.   
  
He tried to speak, but whatever he wanted to say was lost in the middle of a long yawn.  
  
Dawn twisted the corner of her lips in displeasure. "You're late."  
  
Xander rubbed his eye with his thumb, stretching his limbs on the couch. He brought his wrist to his vision and grimaced. "Shit, it's too late," he grunted, clearing his throat when his voice came out too hoarse. "I better call work. Tell them I can't make it today."  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Goodbye promotion."  
  
He yawned again, still stretching. "What?"  
  
She blew up the strands of hair on her face in frustration, grabbing her bag and making her way to the door. "I'm off to college."   
  
Her words splashed his face like cold water, jolting him up. "Dawn, wait…"  
  
She looked at him over her shoulder, half closing the apartment door behind her she spoke evenly: "Unlike some people, I never walk away from my commitments."  
  
Xander winced when she slammed the door. A sudden head rush attacked him as he tried to stand up too quickly, compelling him to drop on the couch and rub his throbbing forehead. The quick movement wasn't really the main cause of his exhaustion. His hand slipped from his forehead to lie on his empty stomach, his need to eat was irresistible.  
  
He pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the kitchen area. He scratched his head yawning again, and opened the fridge. There was a Pizza Hut box calling out for him, Dawn's leftovers would be his perfect breakfast after a dinnerless night. The supposedly weightless box almost fell from his hand when it weighted more than he'd expected. Xander set the box on the table and opened it, the sight made his heart twist and bleed. All the slices were there, neither touched nor eaten.  
  
He could just picture Dawn sitting on the couch and gazing down at the pizza, looking numb and miserable. He swallowed wretchedly, closing the box and returning it to the fridge. He realized that he didn't feel hungry anymore.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
The sound of jiggling keys in the lock, sent shivers of excitement down his spine. He turned off the muted TV and slithered from the couch to the floor, there he crouched behind the couch and waited. When he heard the door being pushed open, he jumped up with his arms raised high and a cheerful goofy grin painted on his face. "Surprise!"  
  
Dawn exhaled in fear. She unconsciously backed up a step; her keys falling from her hand to the floor.   
  
She blinked at Xander in confusion, placing a hand on her heaving chest. "Why… what's up with the dark?" Her eyes darted from the closed drapes to the only source of light in the apartment. The kitchen table was pushed to the empty space in the living room, elegantly set for a romantic evening between them.   
  
Xander watched her approach the table with hesitant steps, feeling his grin widening at the look of extreme shock on her face. She eyed the unscented candles with fascination and laid her fingers on the tablecloth, tracing one of the soft rose petals that were sprinkled all over the table. She held up a folded napkin and showed it to Xander; with a tearful smile she said: " _This_  is beautiful."  
  
A soft chuckle escaped his mouth. "The only benefit of my waiter days back in the dark ages." He walked around the couch and stood behind her, whispering in her ear, "May I take your coat, milady?"   
  
Placing the napkin on the table again, she looked at Xander with a sigh. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Trying to take your coat," he said simply, helping her shrug off her coat.   
  
She turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. "You are struck by guilt. And you want forgiveness?"  
  
"And I was supposed to do a surprise birthday party ahead of time," he reminded her of one of their recent arguments with a wink.   
  
That brought a giggle out of her mouth. "I meant  _plan_  a surprise party ahead of my birthday."  
  
"Let's call this a rehearsal," he said with a lopsided smile, drawing her into a hug. He felt her hands pulling him to her with as much strength as she could muster.   
  
"This past week, I was so scared," she said in a faint voice that swelled his heart.   
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
She buried her head in his shoulder. "Just hold me. Never let go."   
  
His hold on her tightened, wanting so much for her to feel safe and reassured. His cell phone rang, ruining the silent moment between them. Dawn let go, but he pulled her back into his embrace.  
  
"It's a random ringtone, so it's no one special."   
  
Dawn giggled slightly. "Take it." With a meaningful smile, she nodded her head at the direction of the bedroom. "I'm gonna go and slip into something sexy."  
  
He watched her walk to the bedroom, feeling his heart burst with passion. He followed the sound of the cringe-worthy default ringtone. He should pick a better one, not that he’d needed to before, since everybody he knew had a special ringtone, including his boss. He found his cell phone vibrating on the couch, the name written on screen sent giddy flutters in to his tummy. Oh, the vast array of ringtone choices for this guy.   
  
"To who do I owe this displeasure?" he said, holding the phone to his ear with a grin.   
  
"Whom," Spike corrected through the phone. "So, have you heard?"  
  
Xander sat down on the couch and hoisted his legs on to the table. "Heard about what?"  
  
"Didn't Buffy tell you?"  
  
His eyebrows met in mild confusion. "Tell me what?"  
  
"About the scandal last night."   
  
"Spike, I'm tired of ending my sentences with "what," get on with it." He dropped his feet from the table, his stomach knotting in fear. He'd bailed on Buffy last night. He'd bailed on her and now she was hurt.   
  
"Slayer bints set up a trap for Buffy," Spike muttered in contempt. "Unfortunately for them, she was accompanied by a vampire with a strong sense of smell."  
  
Xander brushed his face with his hand in relief. He never thought he'd think this, but ‘Thank God Spike was with her’. Buffy's track record with traps wasn't brilliant.   
  
"We have to think of a way to put these chits in their place," Spike said. "So, Buffy's flat at nine?"   
  
A 'yes' was about to fly out of his mouth without thinking, but a sound from the bedroom caught his ear and he choked with the answer in the middle of his throat. "Oh. I can't."  
  
"Why?" The mild displeasure in Spike's voice amused him a little.   
  
"I got a thing with Dawn. I'm sorry."  
  
"That's fine. You should be with her. Buffy and I will take care of it."  
  
"Right," Xander muttered with annoyance. "So, uh, not call me ever?"  
  
"Count on it."  
  
Xander placed his cell phone on the table, feeling somewhat dejected and drained. He was glad Spike hadn't filled him in on the details of the trap or else he wouldn't ever stop picturing whatever fate Buffy had escaped. He wondered what would have happened if he had been with them last night. Would his presence have changed the course of events?  
  
Rowena's proposal came to mind. The attacks on Buffy were increasing day after day. He was the only one who could put a stop to this.   
  
"What do you think?" Dawn's flirty voice floated from the bedroom direction.   
  
He looked up at her and his heart gave out. She was wearing a beautiful long black dress that hugged the curves of her body to perfection. Her hair was pulled up in a fancy hairdo, showing the sparkly earrings that matched her sparkly necklace. She was a breath taking vision.   
  
Xander wasn't sure he could stand up, his legs felt so weak. "You look… smashing."  
  
She smiled and walked seductively toward him. He pulled her on to his lap and she slowly planted a deep kiss on his lips.   
  
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Xander caressed Dawn's long hair with his fingers as she fell soundlessly asleep next to him. Their perfect day had to end eventually; too bad he couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to. Spike's phone call had put a damper on the joy of his romantic surprise for Dawn. He'd tried his best not to space out or show distress in front of her, which wasn't such a hard task when she was so perfectly wonderful all night.   
  
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it was ten to eleven. Almost an hour to midnight. If he hadn't showed at the park by then, Rowena would never trust him again and Buffy would still be harassed and tormented by the slayers.   
  
But, he gazed down at Dawn's peaceful face, if he met Rowena tonight, he and Dawn would never be able to live the normal life he'd promised her. He'd be too involved with the slayers, just like last year, meaning that he'd have less time for the life he built with Dawn. He couldn't hurt her any more than he already had. He knew he should just forget about it, hold Dawn close and think of nothing else but her.  
  
He noticed his palms sweating and mechanically let go of Dawn's hair. Huddling under the blanket he wondered how his palms would sweat when he felt this cold. He shut his eye and in his mind he recalled his conversation with Rowena the night before.   
  
 _"Dey need to have a purpose again. Dey need guidance."_  
  
He saw himself last year, standing on the platform in the middle of Command Central, issuing orders, guiding the slayers. It felt like ages since he'd worn his old uniform and spoken through his blue-tooth. At the time he hadn’t realized how accustomed he had become to the techs and military life. Now he realized that they had all become used to that life, moreover he realized that he really missed it.  
  
Feeling his insides swelling painfully, he eyed Dawn's sleeping form again before slipping out of bed as slowly as possible.   
  
Gathering his clothes from the floor and snatching his eye patch, he tiptoed his way into the living room. He glanced at the table he'd been setting up all afternoon, his heart twisting slightly. He should stop thinking and get on with it.   
  
Clothes on, eye patch in place, he patted his pocket for keys and then headed for the door.   
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
At her words, his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. He squeezed his eye shut, biting on his lower lip. Turning around, he faced Dawn who was standing by the bedroom door in her robe; arms folded across her chest, her face divest of emotion.   
  
He tried to speak, but smacked his lips shut when she firmly held up a hand to his face.  
  
"Don't even." Xander didn't think he'd heard that particular tone of voice from her before. "I worked it all out. Years of watching my sister sneaking out in the night under Mom's nose. I suspect you're doing it for the same reasons."  
  
Xander swallowed, feeling his mouth dry. He wasn't sure what he should say, so he dropped his gaze to the floor, shame washing over him.   
  
"Why?" There was a quiver in her voice that made the thought of looking up at her face too terrifying.   
  
He sighed. "I thought you worked it all out."  
  
"No. Why ask me to give up that life when you can't?" Her voice was so small when she asked, "Why lie to me?"  
  
"I didn't lie. At least not back then." He looked up and winced when he saw her eyes shining and brilliant with unshed tears. "I really believed I was over this."  
  
Tears started rolling down her cheeks. "You clearly aren't."  
  
"And you clearly are."  
  
"Because you asked me to," her voice rose in anger. She bit on her lip probably to prevent an unwanted whimper. "I did what you said."  
  
"And you liked it!" he shot back with a rising irritation he couldn't explain.   
  
Her tearful eyes glistened with anger. "But you don't?"   
  
He didn't. He'd figured that a long time ago, but didn't want to believe it. After months of being afraid to tell her how he felt, now that it was out in the open, he felt a great sense of relief and contentment. Still, seeing her standing there, looking at him with resentment and – hate? – he couldn't bare the painful twist inside at the thought of watching her slip away from him. He wanted her. He still liked her. Right now, she was his everything. He didn't want to lose her. That was probably why he hadn’t been able to tell her before, how he really felt. He still wanted her in his life, in his apartment, in his bed. He loved her.   
  
"I don't get it." She shook her head. "You're not fit for this. You never were."  
  
The irritation inside him was starting to boil up. "Sure, because I'm weak, I'm fragile, I'm breakable. I've heard all the synonyms of the word useless and memorized them by heart."  
  
"Because you're normal," she spat out, showing her old annoyance with his petty-party whining.   
  
"Look at my face, that's not the face of a normal person." He pointed at his eye patch, unable to help the rising of his voice. "This is the face of a person who'd spent a big chunk of his life fighting."   
  
"People who aren't fighters can lose their eyes too, Xander."  
  
"Yeah, but you don't see them wearing an eye patch, Dawn. People do whatever it takes to fix the situation so they won't look like pirates all their lives."  
  
"But  _you_  never tried to fix it. You had your chance when Willow still had her powers. And you still have a chance now, if you want me to look up a doctor..."  
  
"Don't you get it, Dawn? I don't want it fixed!"   
  
Her face was stricken with pain by his outburst, and she hugged herself, looking anywhere but his face.   
  
He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. "I can't fight those feelings anymore, Dawn. I want… I want my old life back."  
  
She swallowed thickly, still not looking at him. "I don't."  
  
He walked toward her and placed his hands on her quivering shoulders. "You don't have to. It's just me."  
  
"It can't work this way, Xander. I can't just sit here alone, every night, wondering if you are going to come back to me alive."  
  
Xander frowned, his hands leaving her shoulders and dropping to dangle at his sides. "What are you saying?"  
  
She looked back at him, her eyes flared with determination. "I'm saying it's your choice."  
  
His frown deepened. "You're giving me an ultimatum?"  
  
She nodded.   
  
A helpless laugh burst out of his mouth. "Dawn, c'mon, we can make it work."  
  
She took a step back when he approached her. "We can't."  
  
"Let's give it a try," he said desperately, his heart racing with fear, hating the thought of them being over.  
  
She shook her head, looking away again. "No."  
  
He bit his lip and glanced down at his watch. "Rowena is waiting for me." He looked back at her, begging her to understand with his eye and tone. "She needs me."  
  
She turned her gaze back at him, tear lines had already dried on her cheeks. "I need you, too."  
  
Choosing her should be so simple, just a single word out of his mouth and this whole nightmare would be over. But his lips were paralyzed in place, glued to each other like opposite sides of a magnet. His throat locked up, and he couldn't breathe; he felt lightheaded, like he was about to pass out.   
  
Her expression stung with sorrow, she gave a shaky nod, lowering her gaze to the floor. "You made your choice. Go."  
  
"Dawn," he choked out wretchedly.   
  
She drew in a deep breath, her face screwed up with a strong desire to cry. She started walking toward the bedroom, saying with a strangled voice: "Just go, Xander."  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
The night was dark and cold, too cold, an icy breeze blew at him mercilessly as he sat on the bench in the park, waiting for Rowena. The freezer-like atmosphere was nothing compared to the intense conversation he'd just had with Dawn. His eye was stinging and a big ball was stuck in his throat, he didn't want to think of what was going to happen tomorrow, didn't want to think of going back home and not finding Dawn there.   
  
The sound of faint footsteps reached his ears. He looked up, wincing when the wind smacked against his face. Rowena stood at a distance, her longish hair dancing around her face.   
  
Xander rose to his feet with a forced smile. "I'm here," he said gently.   
  
She didn't say anything, her face frozen with lack of emotions.   
  
He felt a tug of worry inside. "Rowena?"  
  
Out of the blue, he felt an object on his neck and his whole body shocked with electricity. He dropped to the floor, shaking uncontrollably, unable to move as every muscle in his body became rigid at once.   
  
His wide eye caught sight of a girl he didn't recognize holding a taser gun. The last thing he remembered was her boot jammed against his face.   
  
  


~*~*~*~

 


	7. Connection

**  
Chapter Seven:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
With a flinch, he woke up to an intense headache that attacked the left side of his head. On a reflex, he tried to lift his hand and rub it, but he couldn't move his hand at all. He couldn't move both of his hands. It took another concerted effort to move them, before he realized that his hands were, in fact, tied tightly behind his back. He started rolling his head from one side to the other in a desperate attempt to stop the sharp headache. All the while he was moaning helplessly. He gasped with shock when he thought he was going fall to the floor.   
  
He tried to force his eye to open, feeling the pounding in his head increase with the effort. His eyelid fluttered slightly but due to the sharp pain in his head remained shut. His whole body was cramped and throbbing, tied in place and unable to move.   
  
Eventually he managed to open his eye with difficulty and despite the nausea. Through the fog he made out unfamiliar shapes in the strange room. After a closer look, he recognized it to be a kitchen. He looked down at himself, tied with a rope to the chair. He'd known this day would come eventually; he was just surprised it hadn't come sooner.   
  
His ears picked up feminine voices arguing outside the kitchen door, and he tried to listen carefully to what was being said. This was made more difficult by his overwhelming need to throw up. To his right, he noticed shadows dancing outside the ajar door. That was until someone came into his line of sight. He saw long blonde hair, which ended at the beginning of tight blue jeans, all reminding him of someone he knew.   
  
"Rowena!" a familiar voice snapped, it didn't belong to the blonde girl, but he recognized it well. His heart dropped into his pants upon hearing Rowena's name; gradually his mind started to work out how he ended up here. "You told me you were taking your stupid game out of the apartment before noon. My shift at the mall is about to start and he's  _still_  in my kitchen!"   
  
"You know we can't use our place. It's the first place the cops visit when something goes bad in town," the blonde girl said, her voice was so familiar it was driving him crazy. Thinking too much about it made his headache even worse.   
  
"I don't care. I've quit, remember? I don't want you trashing my place for your crap."  
  
"It's just for a couple of hours, until Emma finds Alicia. We're staying here."  
  
"I don’t get it. You've refuted the name just like I did. Can't you just stop playing thug and move on with your lives?"  
  
The unbearable headache was making it hard for him to focus, but he recognized those voices well. His chest was heaving badly; his need to hurl yesterday's dinner had more to do with what was being said outside than his lousy condition. Kidnapped by his own girls? Could it get any worse?   
  
He focused his eye on the slightly open door again, watching the back of the blonde girl – Maya, yes! That was her name – shifting slightly like she was about to pounce any minute. Her hands were clutching her hips with obvious intensity.   
  
She took a small step to her right, vanishing from his view and revealing the other girl she had been blocking with her body.   
  
Xander's chest tightened. "Rowena?" he breathed out, feeling so nauseated he started dry heaving. He shut his eye and tried to control himself.   
  
The next room fell silent abruptly and then he heard the door squeak open. He lifted his head and opened his eye, looking at the four girls who had been under his command less than a year ago.   
  
Maya pursed her lips into a devious smirk. She was the first one to approach him. "Lookie here,  _Sir_  is finally up."  
  
He eyed her closely. She looked slimmer than she used to be, darks circles under her eyes, and her whole fashion sense had gone downhill.   
  
His gaze darted from the cheap accessories that were dangling from her colorful jacket, to her scornful face. She looked like she expected him to answer, but the second his lips parted, a sharp slap stung his cheek.  
  
"What's that, sir? I didn't hear you," she snapped, slapping him again, her eyes twinkling with a joyous madness.   
  
"Maya!" Anne chided, putting herself between Xander and Maya. "None of that, please. It's bad enough you left him tied up and beaten, here in my kitchen, and…" Anne's concerned blue eyes stared at him in confusion. "Where's his eye patch?"  
  
Xander blinked his unscathed eye, his tied hands tensed in memory of the old habit of hiding his left eye whenever it was exposed in public. He hadn't even realized the eye patch wasn't there, too stressed with the pain and his surroundings, to think of anything else.   
  
Saffi stepped forward with one hand raised up. Her short hair was longer now and pulled back into a ponytail. His chest swelled when he noticed the smirk on her face, no less scornful than Maya's. "I've took it off. I always wanted to see what was behind it. And it's hideous."  
  
"He could get an infection," Anne cried out in protest.   
  
"C'mon, he lost his eye like a gazillion years ago." Saffi's nose scrunched up like she caught a whiff of bad plumbing. "God, that really is ugly. What did Renee see in him?"  
  
"Where's the eye patch, Saffi?" Anne said, tapping her foot on the floor and holding out her hand.   
  
Saffi pursed her lips and looked elsewhere in a childish attempt to ignore her.   
  
"This is my apartment," Anne pushed. "You do what I say."  
  
"The apartment isn't just yours. It's Rowena's, too," Maya objected, pointing at Rowena, whose face was hidden underneath the brim of her sports cap. She had been silent throughout the argument.   
  
Anne rolled her eyes and planted her hand on her hip impatiently. "Rowena?"   
  
"Give him his eye patch back," Rowena muttered quietly without lifting her gaze from the floor.   
  
Saffi twisted her lips in displeasure. "You're no fun." She bumped her shoulder against Anne's on purpose as she made her way out of the kitchen.   
  
Xander watched them leave the kitchen through his hazy gaze, hanging his head low in exhaustion. The stinging of his cheek hurt him more than the headache, but it was the horrific images in his head, about the cause of the bruises that covered his body, that twisted his heart the most. He remembered Maya looming over him in the dark night, looking down at him with hate in her eyes. The sole of her shoe was the last thing he'd seen. He realized where the bruises must have come from as he visualized her kicking his unconscious body over and over, Saffi and Rowena joining her viciously.   
  
He squeezed his eye shut as a faint painful sound escaped his lips. The scenario his mind played for him went on: their hateful eyes; their disdained curses; their kicks of revenge; all shattering his heart. The ropes that pulled on his bruised torso, cut into his flesh, preventing him from running back to Dawn's warm embrace. He would be going back to living in oblivion, escaping the harsh realities of this life and living away from the hate of the people he had once believed respected and adored him.   
  
A tender hand brushed against his shoulder and Anne's gentle voice whispered hesitatingly: "Are you okay?"  
  
He swallowed the heavy lump in his throat, opening his eye and looking up at her sympathetic face. "Anne?"  
  
"Hey, Sir," she said with a small smile, slipping his eye patch over his head and covering the ugly imperfection.   
  
"What did I tell you about calling me that?" His attempt to smile back failed, but he managed to make his tone somewhat humorous.   
  
She took out a sangria jug from the fridge and poured some water into a glass. "It makes you feel old."  
  
"And it reminds me of my boss. Hate that guy."  
  
She brought the glass to his lips and seconds later the cold, fresh water rushed down his dry throat. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this," she said, wincing at the way he was gulping the water and how it was dripping from his mouth like a waterfall. When he started choking and coughing, she set the glass on the floor and fetched a few tissues to wipe his wet lips and chin.   
  
She sat next to him on her knees and rubbed his thigh with her slender fingers. "I heard you settled with Dawn. I'm happy for you."  
  
He blinked slightly at her words, giving a half-hearted smile, not really feeling like correcting her.   
  
"I'm trying to move on, too," she went on. "Got this apartment with Rowena and a job at Zara. The staff is nice. And I have a nice boss."  
  
Xander's forced smile became real. "That's a plus."  
  
She returned his smile with a bittersweet one. "I'm doing well."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that."   
  
She dropped her gaze bashfully making his smile grow more tender. He was glad one of his girls was doing well instead of making the sole purpose of her life hating Buffy and thinking of ways to harm her.   
  
A few voices rose angrily outside, startling Xander. Anne heaved a sigh and looked at the kitchen door with a bored stare. "I'm guessing you're wondering what's going on around here."  
  
"I think I got the picture."  
  
"Everybody is so obsessed about with hurting Buffy." She sat back, crossing her legs. "They want her out of San Francisco. At first they were ganging up on her and when that didn't work, they got really sadistic. They kinda scare me."   
  
She leaned back against the drawers, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. "I try to stay out of it. But with Rowena being involved with them, I had to hear about the gruesome details." She looked back at him, her eyes a picture of confusion. "I can't understand why they won't just leave Buffy alone and get on with their lives."  
  
"So, what's the plan?" he couldn't help the angry pitch in his voice, knowing that Anne didn't deserve it. "Using me as bait to get to Buffy?"  
  
She shrugged. "I guess. They don't really tell me anything."  
  
He let out a frustrated huff, pulling against the ropes binding his wrists but it only tightened them painfully. He had to get out of here and find Buffy. Cursing his helpless state, he noticed the bulge in his pocket and felt a stir of happiness in his heart. "Anne, take my cell phone. Call Buffy and warn her."  
  
She stared at him silently, appearing slightly disturbed by his orders.   
  
"Anne?"   
  
She sighed, getting up on her feet. "I'm sorry. All I can do is making sure they don't hurt you any further, but I don't wanna get involved in this. I've built up a new life, I have friends and a job, and if I play my cards right I'll have a date next Friday. I really am done with the whole slayer thing."  
  
Xander stared at her in disbelief, all hopes crashing down around him.   
  
She avoided his gaze, opening the fridge again. "Are you hungry?"   
  
"No," he muttered, looking down at his thighs wretchedly.   
  
He felt her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm really sorry."  
  
He couldn't be upset with her. The stance she had taken was exactly what he and Dawn were going for when they left the fight. She removed her hand from his shoulder and started walking toward the door.   
  
"Anne," he said, watching her stop and look back at him. "Does Rowena really hate me?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe. I mostly hear Buffy bashing."  
  
He nodded, hearing the door click shut. His muscles started to strain and bulge beneath his skin as he pulled on the ropes again. He felt them burning against his skin as they aggravated him. There was no use. He hung his head helplessly, feeling the stings of the ropes and the throbbing in his head and body settled into a simultaneous, steady beat.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
There she was. A small glow at the far distance. Xander's heart leapt at the sight of her. He started running. He had to reach her, hold her close and beg for forgiveness, for her to take him back. But no matter how fast he ran, she was still a bright dot in the middle of a dark, blank page. He called out her name. His throat burned, voice coming out strangled, lost in heavy pants.   
  
He tripped and he found himself falling down, watching himself slipping away from her. He screamed her name on the top of his lungs, but she was flying up high and he was sinking low. He splashed into the sea, limbs trapped in place, taking away his ability to swim up to her. He was drowning, sinking down into the dark depths.   
  
His whole body shook violently and a gasp broke out of his mouth. He realized that he was in Anne's kitchen, still tied to a chair; before him stood Saffi with an empty glass.   
  
Her lips curled up into a sneering smile as she set down the glass on the counter. "Your sitter is off to work. That means I get to have fun with you."  
  
"Saffi…"   
  
"Shhh." She placed a finger on her lips. "Not a word."   
  
Xander noticed her other hand behind her back, and then heard his heartbeat jamming in his ear, when she revealed the ball-gag she was hiding. His stomach tied into knots and his muscles tensed, he had to restrain his hands from uselessly pulling against the ropes again. Saffi walked toward him, grabbing his jaw and forcing it down. She fitted the ball into his mouth and buckled the strap behind his head. Xander willed himself not to bite on the ball. He'd always hated to be gagged, especially now that he knew it was for a purpose he wouldn't like at all.   
  
Saffi took a step back and drew a thin steel crowbar from out of her jacket. A surge of panic passed through him and he went rigidly still, which was his only option considering the fact that he couldn't move at all. She waved the delicate crowbar in his face a couple of times and then she walked behind him, disappearing from his sight. Xander tried his hardest to breathe through his nose evenly, feeling his mouth dry from being held wide open. His senses were already sparking in horrified anticipation, so much so that he jumped when she pulled roughly on his hand, his reaction caused her to snicker softly. His nerves were already on edge when he felt the flattened points of the crowbar positioned under his thumb's nail.   
  
"Remember Renee?" she said from behind him. However, due to the mind-numbing fear, he couldn't think of anything but the object that was pressing against his nail.   
  
"Of course you don't. Too busy boning Buffy's sister."   
  
He felt a painful pressure on his thumb nail and bit down on the ball gag with the pain. He tried to keep the scream trapped in his throat so it wouldn't fly out of his mouth.   
  
"Did you know that Renee was my best friend?"  
  
The pain was unimaginably horrific. A helpless groan sounded in his mouth as she removed his thumb nail slowly and painfully. His face was contorted with pain and exhaustion, his body already stiff and cramped from being tied to a chair for so long.   
  
"You didn't," she snapped, plucking his nail completely from his thumb. He jerked in his bonds, unable to remain still and silent any longer. His cries of pain were muffled by the gag ball. The pain that he felt was so intense, that slowly his thumb became numb. "You didn't even care enough to know. You're just a disgusting old man who has a thing for younger girls."   
  
She went for another finger and mercilessly tore off another nail. Xander pulled uselessly against his bonds, feeling his eye watering, and his teeth ripping the ball.   
  
"Renee was killed because of you! She got too involved and she was killed! And I didn't even get to say goodbye!"  
  
God, he couldn't take it anymore. He felt like he was about to pass out from the pain. She ripped out another nail. Stop! Please, stop!  
  
"You cremated her! Spread her ashes in an unknown garden in Japan!" Her fingers grabbed his hair and forced his head back. Through the tears, he saw her angry blue eyes shimmering with hatred. "Did you think you were the only one who cared?"  
  
She let go of his hair and stood in front of him. "Didn't you even think that we wanted to say goodbye? That we wanted to have a funeral for her? That we wanted to have a tomb to visit?"  
  
Her punch exploded in his face, the force of the blow causing him and the chair he was tied to, to fall backwards and smack against the floor. "You didn't! You selfish bastard, you didn't!"   
  
He screamed feeling the pain soar in his arm as she kicked it cruelly. "You, Buffy and Willow, never thought for one second that maybe, oh just maybe, that we nameless slayers were more than just soldiers."  
  
Through the haze of pain, he saw Rowena diving into the room, eyes wide with horror, running toward Saffi and prying her away from him.   
  
Xander squeezed his eye shut, feeling every part of his body wanting to burst. Everything hurt. The way they screamed at each other made the pounding in his head excruciating.   
  
"Saffi!" Rowena cried out in disbelief. "Vhat de hell are you doing?"  
  
"He deserves it!"  
  
"He's a civilian! An innocent. Ve don't torture innocent people!"  
  
"He's as much to blame as Buffy. He abandoned the cause, too."  
  
He tried to breathe, air rushing out of him in a painful quiver. His nose hurt, his arm hurt, his fingers hurt, his whole body hurt like hell. Everything was starting to be fuzzy. His eye remained shut in the hope he'd slip away into sleep so that he wouldn't feel any more pain, wouldn't hear any more hate.   
  
He stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder, his instincts screamed at him to back away. But he couldn't move. And the hand wasn't rough. It touched him gently.   
  
"Xander…" Rowena's voice mumbled over him quietly. "Never had powers. He's always been an ordinary man. He can't heal as vell and fast as Buffy. He's just a hostage."   
  
Ordinary man. That was who he was. How he'd always looked to them. The respect and adoration were only fake façade to hide the resentment. Being ordered around by an ordinary man they could simply send to a coma must have stung. They couldn't do anything about it or else they'd get a nice pummeling from Buffy.   
  
All that time, watching them grow stronger and feeling his pride growing along with their strength, being enthused by their rising confidence and sense of purpose. It had meant the world to him, but had meant nothing to them.   
  
"You weren't kidding."  
  
He didn't recognize that voice, but he felt too weak to see who it belonged to. His mind was numb with anguished thoughts and his battered body was shrieking with pain.   
  
"Buffy's second in command. Nice." He felt another body nearby, standing next to Rowena's crouching form. His body didn't even tense, too exhausted to feel anything but pain. "You seem to have had your fun with him, too?"  
  
"Rowena spoiled my fun," Saffi grumbled.   
  
As he was starting to slip into darkness, his mind was working things out. Alicia was here. Soon they'd be moving him to another place where he'd probably be tortured some more. Buffy would fall for the bait and they'd capture her. From this moment on he knew that everything was about to go downhill. He found relief in the darkness that enveloped him and let himself be lulled into unconsciousness.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
He woke up to a white ceiling, a constant beeping noise and a faint female voice talking in a straightforward tone.   
  
"God, Xander," Dawn's voice reached his ears, and he turned his head to his right, caught up in the concern that glittered in her eyes. His gaze shifted from Dawn to the IV bag next to her, then down the attached tube to the needle inserted into his arm.   
  
"How do you feel?" Dawn asked him with hesitation.   
  
His gaze was still captivated by the fluid going into his blood stream. His lips fluttered, but he wasn't sure his voice would be heard through the medical equipment that droned loudly in his ears.   
  
Dawn held his gauze covered hand, with her thumb she drew tender circles on the back of it. "You're safe now," she whispered.   
  
The gauze wrapping that covered his hand stirred up the last unpleasant event in Anne's kitchen. Looking around the typical white hospital room, Xander felt a great sense of relief and safety washing over him. The worst was over. He was safe.   
  
"Do you want…"  
  
"Dawn, just… tell me," he interrupted Dawn's concerned question. "What happened?"  
  
She sighed. "Anne showed up at the door of our…" she trailed off, before correcting, "the apartment."  
  
Something inside twinkled with joy and a smile lifted up the corners of his lips. "Anne?"  
  
"Yeah. She told me everything. I called the cops and the girls are locked up now."  
  
His smile melted at what she said and he was filled with dread. "You called the cops? Rowena and the others are in jail?"  
  
Her face was blank with emotions, unfazed by his strong reaction. "That was the right thing to do, Xander."  
  
He stared at her, not expecting much sympathy considering his condition. "And Buffy?"  
  
"She's on her way."   
  
So, Buffy didn't know about the slayers being put behind bars. His heart twisted, unable to help feeling like a betrayer, he being the cause of what had happened to them. "What about Anne?"  
  
"She's fine."  
  
"But if Rowena is in jail, she won't…"  
  
"She'll get a new roommate, Xander. Don't worry about it."  
  
He could sense the annoyance in her voice, not blaming her one bit. She'd come to his rescue after all, and here he was being more upset about the slayers who kidnapped and tortured him. "Thank you, Dawn," he said, feeling a small smile tugging at his lips.   
  
She didn't return his smile, but her expression grew grimmer. "I told Buffy… about us."   
  
He felt a hole open in his heart, his stomach lurched and he felt sick. Telling Buffy meant that it was final. They wouldn't be able to work their issues out. They were over.   
  
Dawn confirmed his last thought by removing her hand from his, tearing away another piece of his heart, leaving it hollow and bleeding. "I'm gonna stay at her place for a while until I get me a room in the dorms."   
  
"Dawn, I…"  
  
"Don't. Just don't say anything, Xander. I'm… I'm trying to control my anger."  
  
The door was pushed open, and Buffy walked in, looking at him with worry. "Xander."  
  
Dawn stood up and stepping away, invited Buffy onto her chair. Buffy sat on it quickly, taking a hold of his injured hand. "God, are you okay?" Angry lines shadowed her face at the sight of the bandages and gauze. "They sunk so low. This is my fault."  
  
Xander's gaze wasn't on her, though. It was firmly focused on Dawn's retreating back as she walked around Buffy and out of the room, closing the door behind her with a dreadful click.   
  
  


~*~*~*~

 


	8. Connection

  
  


**Chapter Eight:**

  
  
  
  
  
Dead silent and still, that was his apartment. Nothing to be heard but the gulping sound his throat made as he swallowed down his beer. Setting the empty bottle on the kitchen table, he sat back and gazed at the empty second shelf next to the door. The living room looked like a puzzle that he knew he could never put back together again.   
  
His gaze wandered across the living room to the plain looking kitchen table, naming the missing pieces in his mind. He'd never thought he'd miss Cookie Monster so much. Losing Dawn’s cute bits and pieces made the whole apartment look nothing more than boring and geeky. Just like himself.  
  
He stirred himself to his feet and opened the fridge, his right hand instinctively going for a beer bottle. He cursed when the bottle fell and rolled, quickly catching it with his left hand before it dropped onto the floor and broke. He lifted his right hand, eying the splints on his broken fingers. The doctor said that he'd have to keep the "buddy taping" for six weeks more, so that his broken bones would heal well.   
  
If only it had been his nose that was broken. Without his hands, he was literally nothing. He'd been on sick leave from work for the past couple of weeks, doing nothing but sitting around and drinking. He wouldn't mind being at work, even watching his promotion slipping away from him and given to a lesser construction worker would have been more bearable than enduring the silence in his apartment.   
  
Urgent knocks on the door reached his ears. He returned the beer bottle to the inside of the fridge, took the empty one off the table and dropped it in the recycling bin. All the while he felt a swarm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He took a couple of deep breaths and opened the door.  
  
The butterflies died in his stomach and his anxiety dissolved into disappointment. "What brings you here?" he asked in a bored voice.   
  
Spike removed the hood from his head, looking uncomfortable in his oversized raincoat. "Dawn called me. She wanted me to fetch a box."   
  
Hearing her name soured his heart, especially coming out of Spike's mouth,  _especially_ in the context of wanting to rip more pieces out of his increasingly incomplete puzzle of an apartment. "Why didn't she send Buffy?"  
  
"Shift at the coffee shop." The way Spike kept squirming made Xander want to pee. It was as if he desperately wanted to wriggle out of the raincoat. Too cool for anything that wasn't made of leather apparently.   
  
"Willow?"  
  
Spike's nostrils flared. "I don't know. Think it's my ideal pastime to walk in a burning raincoat just to see your bloody face?"  
  
"My face has healed just fine," Xander blurted out in anger, and then inwardly cursed himself when he realized what he just said. "Whatever." He twisted his lips, leaving the door open as he made his way back to the fridge.   
  
"Harris?"  
  
He hung his head, and with a loud exhale, he turned around to face Spike impatiently.   
  
Spike quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.   
  
Xander pursed his lips, frustration raging inside him in waves. He was  _not_  in the mood for guessing games. "What?"  
  
Spike looked like he wanted to punch him. "Invite, you dill hole."   
  
Throwing his head back, he exclaimed: "God, come in!" He turned around and quickened his steps toward the fridge, grabbing the abandoned beer bottle and kicking the fridge door shut with his heel. "They can try to convince us you're part of society all they want, but a vampire is always a vampire."  
  
He pulled out a chair and sat on it, watching Spike walk more into the middle of the living room.   
  
Spike smirked at him for a split second, looking around the apartment. "Interesting you'd say that, considering what Dawn slurred at me down the phone."  
  
The tip of his bottle touched his lips, but Xander didn't drink. "She was drunk?"  
  
"Where's the bloody box?"  
  
"Uh, in the bedroom." He took a sip, noticing that Spike didn't move. He gestured for him to go in and get it. Obviously, he'd have objected if he had the energy to get up and get the box out himself. Besides, Spike didn’t care enough about him to want to snoop in his bedroom.   
  
Spike came out with the box tucked under his left arm, and for a split second Xander caught him throwing him a look that his blood boil. He smacked the bottle down onto the table and glared at him. "What was that?"  
  
Spike stopped walking, looking back at him in confusion. "What?"  
  
"Your gaze was all judgey."  
  
Spike grimaced. "I didn't even look at you. The sight of you disgusts me."  
  
Xander jumped to his feet and pointed at him. "Judgey!"  
  
Spike set the box on the floor and glared back at him. "Wanna hear judgey? I'll give you judgey, a ponce like you throwing the perfect life away…"  
  
"It wasn't perfect," Xander interrupted him and then sighed with frustration. "You know nothing."  
  
"I know that if I were a human like you, I'd rather live like one."  
  
"Like one? Humans are more complex than you'd like to think!" He dropped on his chair and groaned when he caught himself reaching for the bottle with his right hand. He held the bottle with his left hand, hating how he fisted it, clumsily and weakly. "But I don't expect you to understand," he muttered, looking down at his injured hand.   
  
"Because I'm a vampire?"   
  
Xander raised his bottle as an answer and then started gulping it noisily. He saw Spike lift the box and head to the door, stopping at the exit: "By the way, heard about your fling with Dracula."  
  
Xander choked on his beer and coughed several times. He looked up, to find that the idiot vampire had ducked out of his apartment, leaving the door wide open. Xander raced toward the door, peering outside to find Spike waiting for the elevator.   
  
"There was no fling," he yelled at him, watching him go into the elevator, completely dismissing him. "Don't you dare spread that rumor, you undead nosy parker!"   
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
Xander settled onto a chair in the booth; he had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was the first time he visited someone in prison and hopefully it would be the last. Not only did he not want to see someone he cared about behind bars, but the whole process of getting the approval to visit was too much of a pain. The searching of his car alone had been a scary experience. Thankfully, he'd left his stake at home.   
  
Behind the glass, he saw Rowena sit down on her chair and take the phone. Her head was bowed, her eyes hidden behind her blonde locks. Taking his phone, he said gently, "Hey, Rowena."  
  
"Hi," she whispered, looking like she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her instantly.   
  
"Would you look at me?"  
  
"I can't."   
  
His heart twisted slightly at her tormented tone. He could understand the feeling, not that he'd ever kidnapped and tortured someone before, but he knew what shame and embarrassment felt like whenever he did something completely stupid. Someone in his place would have held a humongous grudge, but Xander couldn't bring himself to. Maybe because he too felt betrayed somehow, for accepting a life that was supposed to be perfect for him and leaving behind what he really wanted.   
  
"I'm sorry, Rowena," he said, watching her flinch at his words. "For abandoning you."   
  
Her gaze fell on his injured right hand and she trembled slightly. "You don't have to apologize," she said in a choked up voice.   
  
"Yes, I do. I hurt you. You can admit that."  
  
She said nothing. Her head was still bowed, her eyes not meeting his, and her body trembled with tremors of sorrow. She looked similar to how she had that doomed day in the castle, lost and scared and mournful.   
  
"Rowena," he spoke firmly, his gaze hardening: "Admit it."  
  
Her lips quivered, but she swallowed and cleared her throat. "I remember vhen I talked to Buffy on the phone for the first time. Everything she said about sisterhood and togetherness, it all spoke to me. I never had that at home. But the slayer army? That was my real family."  
  
She looked up now, her eyes glassy with nostalgia. "Vhen you left us in Tibet… it hurt." She swallowed again, her voice quivering to some extent. "You just left. Like ve didn't matter."   
  
She looked down again, but her pitch of voice was more controlled and stronger. "I don't really care about the seed being broken, and I still don't understand vhy ve can't still be an army…" she trailed off, considering what she said. "I guess I can see vhy. But it hurt."   
  
Her words felt like a knife slicing his heart to thin pieces. Just when he thought he couldn't be any more of a scumbag, she'd say something that would prove him wrong.   
  
"This doesn't excuse vhat ve did to you," Rowena rushed to say. "I didn't vant to hurt you, neither vanted them to hurt you. Especially vhen you have a girlfriend vaiting for you..."  
  
"I don't have a girlfriend anymore, Rowena," he interrupted softly, feeling his chest tightening as the scene between him and Dawn that night flashed back through his mind. "She… we're not together anymore."  
  
There was a moment of silence. His eye gazed down at his lap, and even though he didn't know if she was looking at him, he felt a burning stare boring into his face.   
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," she whispered softly. He couldn't make out her tone and he wasn't sure if she really felt sorry.   
  
"Did it have something to do vith us?" she asked again, and this time he could pick on the uncertainty in her voice.   
  
"It did," he said gruffly. Okay, so maybe he did feel some resentment. He had sacrificed his relationship with Dawn for the girls who kidnapped and tortured him; that ought to leave a sour taste in his mouth.   
  
"Guess I should have listened to her," he went on, he couldn't seem to help the bitterness that seeped out of him with every word. "Obviously I was outta my wits. You girls don't need an "ordinary man" to lead you. I was just bait."   
  
He looked up at her now. There was no shock in her downcast face, no defiance, just sorrowful regret that shadowed her features. His body shook with spite and anger, recalling all they'd been through, all he did for them. "I didn't know how much you resented having me as a leader," he gritted out, with a sharp edge to his voice.   
  
Her face shot with a belated shock. "Ve didn't. Ve don't."   
  
A faint scoff escaped his lips. "That's not the impression I got."  
  
She leaned closer to the glass. "I didn't lie. Everything I said in the car was true."  
  
He shook his head. "Not to Saffi."  
  
"Saffi has her reasons, but vhat she said was bull. You have to believe me."  
  
He didn't. He couldn't. The hate and scorn that he'd seen that day, as he was tied tightly to that chair, feeling his whole body throbbing with the cuts and bruises that covered it, and the headache banging inside the walls of his skull had burnt him. He loved them, maybe not to the point of staying, but he did remember them fondly and miss them. The fact that they begrudged him all that time… it hurt. They could whine however they liked about him abandoning them, it didn't hurt as much as thinking that the girls he loved, hated his guts and wanted him gone.   
  
"You showed up," Rowena said all of a sudden.  
  
He looked up, noting the realization that plastered on her face. "You vanted to… you showed up."  
  
He lowered his gaze again, the bitterness erupting, forming a tight grip on his heart and squeezing. He heaved a long sigh, trying to clear the negative feelings and focusing on the girl behind the glass; the one trying to mend things and remind him of her past admiration and loyalty.   
  
"I wanted to investigate the dead vampire mystery," he said, recalling the naïve man he had been, huddled in his coat, making his way to the park in the cold night, dumped and miserable.   
  
"Dead vampire?"   
  
He rubbed his forehead, trying to focus on the conversation at hand and erase the bad memories. "Yeah, before... three or four weeks I found a corpse that belonged to a vampire, except it looked like a human corpse."  
  
"You know about that?"   
  
Her stunned words caught his attention at once. He looked up at her with a staggered frown.   
  
"Saffi and I…" she started, trying to explain. Dark lines shadowed her face as she appeared to remember what had happened. "There vas a man. He vasn't a vampire. He'd grabbed the vampire's head with both hands and a yellow glow zapped the vampire. The vampire’s face… it melted into human features. And he fell down a dead body."   
  
Xander looked at her like she'd grown two heads. A power like that could only work if magic still existed. But, with the loss of magic, how could a man zap a vampire with his own hands? A thought suddenly jumped in to his head. "A man?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, he vas thin and had a dark hair."  
  
Xander held his breath, connecting the dots together. "As dark as mine?"  
  
Rowena frowned at him. "Yes, you know him?"  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Knocking on Buffy's door with his left hand filled him with frustration. His knuckles were already bruised and he still hadn't heard a satisfying loud knock. He folded his hand into a fist and banged on the door frantically using the side of it.   
  
The door swung open, revealing an exasperated Buffy. Her eyebrows twitched upwards when she saw him. "Xander?"  
  
Xander started walking into the apartment. "You didn't answer your phone,  _again_ , but that doesn't matt…"  
  
"Wait," Buffy exclaimed, stepping in front of him and blocking his way into the apartment. "You're not going in, are you?"  
  
Xander blinked. "Why wouldn’t I?"  
  
Buffy looked troubled, throwing a brief glance over her shoulder. "Dawn is in here."  
  
He stared at her with a frown, unsure what the problem was. "I know."  
  
She brushed a strand of hair back, only to fall down on her forehead again. "Xander, she's a mess. I can't…"  
  
"Buffy, it's urgent. It's about the…" He paused, noticing Tumble sitting on the couch inside, and then whispered to her, "the dead vampires."  
  
He could clearly see the mixed emotions on her face before she lowered her gaze dejectedly. "It can wait."  
  
Xander felt his eyebrows drawing together. "Wait?"  
  
"Xander, you remember last year." She sighed, looking up at him. "My sister went through a rough break up. I wasn't there for her like I should have been."  
  
"But, Buffy…"  
  
"It sucks. You’re my best friend, but she's my sister. I gotta be there for her."  
  
He stared at her face, a hollow feeling creeping inside him. She stepped back inside and started closing the door. "I hope you understand."  
  
He gave a small nod, watching her close the door in his face. He threw his head back and squeezed his eye shut.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Xander pushed his empty glass towards the bartender and watched the light golden liquid being poured into it until the small bubbles reached the top of the glass. He knew he needed to cut back on the beer, it had been his only nourishment for the past three weeks. He was finding it difficult to give up without friends and family to talk to.   
  
His phone calls to Willow were getting less frequent as their interests and priorities had become even more dissociated. His chest tightened as he remembered with sadness, the sense of relief that had washed through him the day Willow didn't call. They'd been drifting further apart as the years went by. He'd figured it had something to do with neither of them any longer resembling the kids they used to be.   
  
Now, because talking to either Buffy or Dawn was off limits at the moment, he had no companion but his glass of beer. He brought the glass to his lips and chugged down the drink in one long swallow.   
  
Again he handed his empty glass to the bartender, frowning as he heard a familiar voice to his right.   
  
"One glass of whiskey."   
  
 _Spike._  Xander let out a groan. Why was it whenever he was alone and in need to vent, he'd run into the Bug King? Hopefully, Spike wouldn't notice him. Xander wondered if he should leave, but no dammit he wouldn't, he had been here first. Better just to keep quiet and not attract attention to himself.   
  
He glanced at Spike seated on a bar stool a couple of chairs away from him, barely visible behind the woman seated next to Xander. He leaned backward, careful not to lean too much and fall off the bar stool, and eyed Spike who was intently watching the bartender pour him a drink. Spike looked… exhausted and somewhat dejected. He was just staring at his whiskey, his hand not even going for the glass.   
  
Xander shifted his gaze to his own hand, swirling the beer around in his glass. He had completely lost his own desire to drink any more, as he watched the liquid dance around the glass walls.   
  
The woman next to him rose from her seat and slung her purse over her shoulder. Almost immediately there was no one blocking Spike from his line of sight. Right about now, Spike would notice him and make a sarcastic comment Xander wasn't in the mood for. Until then, Xander would be on the edge of his seat waiting for the hated snigger and the scornful remark. Better just cut to the chase and end the torture.   
  
"What brings you down here with the common folk?" He blurted out the first thing that came to his head. "Is your majesty tired of looming over us?"  
  
Spike grimaced when he saw Xander and, taking up his neglected glass, downed his whiskey in a long swallow.   
  
Xander twisted his lips with displeasure and grabbed his glass, attempting to swallow it all down in one, but ended up choking on it. He coughed a couple of times and hit his chest with a fist, trying to get the coughs under control.  
  
Loud voices rose from behind him, obviously a bar fight. The bartender cursed and walked around the bar, leaving the two of them to sit silently, gazing down at their empty glasses. There were a couple of bartenders serving other customers, one of them glanced at Xander and lifted a bottle. Xander shook his head and stuffing a hand in his pocket, he searched for his car keys.   
  
"Got tired of beating up useless demons for information," Spike muttered out of the blue.   
  
Xander looked at him, a bit taken aback. He'd expected Spike to ignore him all night, but apparently he was in for a heart to heart with Bloodbreath. God knew Xander was desperate to confide in someone, but not  _Spike_. And he certainly wasn't going to play the role of Spike's shrink.   
  
Xander sighed, then brought his hand out of his pocket and placed it on the bar. He knew that something was after Buffy, after all Spike had been going on and on about it for a month; something dangerous that probably rated as big as "From Beneath You It Devours," except no one seemed to care but Spike. Xander felt blood gathering in his cheeks, embarrassment bubbling up inside of him. Buffy was his  _best friend_ , yet it was Spike stalking alleyways looking out for her interests.   
  
He looked at his weary companion with a new found sympathy. "Found out nothing then, huh?"  
  
Spike rubbed his forehead in exhaustion and then gestured for the now returned bartender to pour him more whiskey.   
  
Xander eyed him silently, feeling a trace of respect for Spike’s devotion. The past few months, after they had moved into San Francisco, Xander watched with an irritated gaze the way Buffy slumped on their couch, took up a lousy job and ran away from confrontations. He had resented how much she wasn't trying harder; how much she kept clinging to her old life, not getting that it was over. Not getting that she needed to get a grip and move on already.   
  
But then,  _he_  had started doing the exact same thing, hurting and irritating Dawn in the process. It was hard to let go of who he was when he'd been doing what he used to do for years. He understood now, he understood why Buffy's heart wasn't in the new world. Yet… he still resented her.   
  
"If you won't stop…" a shout near to his ear, startled him enough to make him turn around. The large bouncer had stepped into the bar and stood between the angry fighting men. Xander could make out one of them through the gloomy light, his nose bloody and he had messed up hair. His expression was boiling with anger and frustration. The same expression he'd recently seen on Saffi's face.   
  
Xander lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling a pang of sadness inside. He'd just been at Buffy's apartment a few hours ago, yet he didn't even consider asking her about her wellbeing or Dawn's for the matter. He'd only knocked on her door when he had something he wanted from her, but rarely to just hang out. He hadn't thought much about her because he'd saved all his thoughts and sympathy for the girls he'd abandoned.   
  
He returned to his earlier position, facing the bar, and his eye flickered at Spike. He wasn't sure if he should talk about this with him. He'd wanted to talk to Willow about it, but when he'd called her last night her answering machine mentioned her going on some trip for God knew how long. He had no idea where she'd gone to or why she had left.   
  
His lips fluttered but no sound came out of them. He peeked at Spike again, and then made up his mind. "I've been thinking…," a pause, another unsure glance at Spike, who wasn't looking at him. That gave him much needed courage to go on, "…of dropping the charges."   
  
Spike took a sip from his glass, his attention not grabbed yet. "Hmmm?"  
  
Xander bit on his lip, hating the apprehension that took over his body. He gathered his courage, watching the way Spike's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he drank. "Bailing out my girls."  
  
The Adam's apple froze in place, making Xander tense a little. Spike set the glass down on the bar and then looked at Xander like his teacher had once done, when Xander had told her he'd lost his math book. "Have you lost your bloody mind?"  
  
He hadn't lost his book back then, but he didn't doubt he'd lost his mind now. "Maybe."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes, shaking his head, and grabbed his glass for a drink.   
  
"Look, they need me," Xander said, finding his confidence in his voice. He swallowed before adding softly: "…and I need them."  
  
Spike arched an eyebrow at him and then stared pointedly at the splints on Xander's fingers.   
  
Xander unconsciously dropped his injured hand from the bar and glared at Spike. "I made up my mind," he said firmly. "I'm just… not sure if I can do it. I'm the victim. If I signed for the bail, it'd probably be denied under a conflict of interest or something."  
  
Spike set his glass down again, this time narrowing his eyes at Xander. "You've been thinking about this for a while, have you?"  
  
Xander nodded, holding Spike's gaze, eye contact unwavering. "I need someone else to do it."  
  
Spike stared at him for a moment, and then realization flashed in his eyes. "Not bloody likely."   
  
Frustration built up inside of him, watching Spike return to his whiskey. His only chance to get the girls out was slipping away from him. "C'mon. It's not like you care if they hurt me."  
  
Spike smacked his now empty glass down on the bar and shot him a deadly glare. "But I care if they hurt  _Buffy_. You're not their main target, mate. You were just bait."   
  
Like a sharp slap to his face, Xander winced into silence. He hadn't thought about Buffy much lately, not even when he should have. The whole kidnap and torture operation was about getting back at Buffy.  _Buffy_  abandoning the army was the reason why it could no longer exist. Without Buffy, there was no squad. She was their leader and Xander was just her second in command. The girls' anger and frustration, he could understand more clearly now, heck he even felt the same way.   
  
"Leave the bints to rot in jail," Spike said, standing up and slapping a few dollar bills on the bar. "If you cared one bit about Buffy, you wouldn't even consider doing something so bloody stupid."  
  
Xander watched Spike walk away and disappear into the mass of drunken people. He did care about Buffy, he didn't want to see her hurt by anyone, let alone the girls who had previously been under their command.   
  
However, in his mind’s eye: he saw flashes of Rowena's downcast face; Saffi's betrayed gaze; and he remembered how Maya's sharp slap felt. He could never wipe them out from his mind. He could only drink them in and remember them as fresh as the first time.  
  
He cared about Buffy, but he also cared about those girls.   
  
  


~*~*~*~

 


	9. Connection

**  
Chapter Nine:**

  
  
  
  
  
The curtains were drawn shut, leaving the living room in a state of dimness with nothing but a flickering TV screen to shed any light into it. Xander was passively sprawled on the couch with his legs draped on the coffee table. His lower back was aching from the pressure as was the back of his neck. Head tilted to the left, he watched with a lazy eye, his thumb drawing uneven circles on the white splints supporting his fingers.   
  
The sounds wafting from the TV were the background noise to the persistent thoughts in his head. His last conversation with Spike had been an eye opener, making him reconsider his outrageous plans thoroughly. He'd laid out the pros and cons, written them down and then struggled to read his awful handwriting several times. Eventually he had memorized them by heart, yet he still couldn't manage to call for a vote.  
  
Spike was right, as much as Xander hated to admit it. Bailing out the girls meant endangering Buffy again. He knew he could trust Rowena, but could he trust the rest of them? Maya and Alicia had expressed their anger and disgust at Buffy's betrayal, and for the past several months had been hell-bent on kicking Buffy out of San Francisco. Saffi, on the other hand, seemed to have issues with Xander himself.   
  
The memory of an old hurt stung his eye, taking him back to the smell of Japanese trees and the lonely bench in the middle of the garden in Tokyo. He remembered the way the cold breeze had ruffled his uncombed hair as he sat on the hard wood, staring straight ahead at the night. His face covered with a full day's growth of stubble, his yellow plaid shirt wrinkled, and his elbow rested on the golden urn next to him. He'd sat there for long hours, lost in grief and pain.   
  
He'd rarely been allowed the luxury of funerals for his loved ones. Jesse's ashes had been sprayed across the Bronze; Buffy's tomb was secretly hidden in the depth of the forest; Anya's body lay buried underneath the ruins of Sunnydale. Then there was Renee. Blood staining her chest, and her lifeless body in his arms.   
  
Similarly to the rest of them, Renee had considered the squad her family. She had been happy to be part of a big family unit with so many sisters who shared her destiny and purpose. She had been loved and cherished by so many, but to Xander, no one had loved and cared for her the way he had. She was the brightest sun in the dear old Scottish castle, and the sight of her had always filled him with joy and excitement. Bickering and sparring with her had often been the highlights of his day.   
  
Then she was killed and Xander lost his light. He was so broken, so filled with anguish and sadness that he didn't think, for one second, that anyone else was suffering her loss the way he did. Saffi had been Renne's best friend.  _Her best friend._  But he had been so blinded by his own grief and loss that he hadn't considered sharing that last moment in the garden with Renee's best friend.   
  
He knew he couldn't change the mistakes of the past. Saffi would probably never forgive him. Pulling out his fingernails savagely and breaking his fingers in the process was probably a small victory that didn't fill her with complete satisfaction. But at least, she wasn't as angry at Buffy as the rest of the girls.   
  
 _Buffy._  
  
His head shot up and his eye widened in shock.  _Buffy_  was on TV. He scrambled for the remote that was right next to his leg on the table and, after flailing and falling off the couch, snatched the remote and turned up the volume.   
  
 _"…a person of interest in the appearance of nine bodies throughout the Jackson Square Historic District…"_  
  
Xander squinted his eye. "What?"  
  
 _"… residents are advised to call the S.F.P.D hotline with any information…"_  
  
Bodies? Buffy and nine bodies? That didn't sound right. Unless she was on a rescue mission but failed miserably, which was unlikely because Buffy never failed  _that_ miserably. At least not when she was distracted by an apocalypse.   
  
Strong knocks sounded on his door as if on cue. That was probably Buffy. He turned off the TV and dashed to the door.   
  
His heart skipped a beat when he found a man and a woman standing outside his apartment. He squeezed the doorknob with his hand, standing there speechless.   
  
"Mr. Harris?" the man asked.  
  
Xander swallowed. "Yeah?"  
  
The man lifted his badge, reading South San Francisco Police. "I am Detective Robert Dowling and this is my partner, Detective Cheung." He gestured to the very pissed off woman standing next to him.   
  
Xander nodded in acknowledgement. He tried his best to appear unaffected by the appearance of the police, but he couldn't stop his legs from shaking. "Something," he cringed hearing the funny sound coming out of his mouth and cleared his throat, "Something wrong, Detective?"   
  
Detective Cheung took a step forward. "Have you seen Buffy Summers?"  
  
Trying his best to show a neutral face, Xander shook his head. "I haven't seen her in days."  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "When was the last time you contacted her?"  
  
"We haven't talked lately."  
  
She took a couple more steps forward until she was right in his face. "Her roommate named you as a close friend. She said you've dropped by from time to time."   
  
Xander held the eye contact, trying not to squirm as she invaded his personal space. "That was before I broke up with her sister. Buffy and I are having a fallout." He furrowed his eyebrows, shifting his gaze to Detective Dowling. "Is Buffy all right?"  
  
"You haven't watched the news?" Detective Cheung asked incredulously.   
  
Xander looked back at her. "No," he said without a moment's pause.   
  
She stared at him for a moment, trying to work out if he was lying or telling the truth. "Buffy was arrested for murder."  
  
A muscle in Xander's jaw worked. "There must be a mistake."  
  
"The bodies belong to vampires," she said. "And we've seen her stake a vampire at the crime scene."  
  
Belong to vampires? Xander felt his chest tightening, remembering his last conversation with Rowena. He was going to talk to Buffy about it when he'd come over the other day. God, if she let him in, she wouldn't have been in trouble.   
  
"That's not the issue, Mr. Harris," Detective Dowling said in a calm voice that contrasted with his partner's. "Ms. Summers broke out of custody. She's a fugitive."  
  
Xander shut his eye in annoyance. Oh, Buffy.   
  
Hearing Detective Cheung's grunt, he watched her storm away in exasperation. They'd probably had a long day trying to get a hold of Buffy.   
  
Detective Dowling handed him a card. "Call us the minute you hear anything from her. Things will be much easier if she comes to us before we find her."   
  
Xander looked down at the card and nodded. What was Buffy trying to prove running away from the police like that? He knew she was innocent, but her actions weren't helping her case at all. She should know better what with the slayers' lovely reputation these days. How was he supposed to find her now?  
  
Suddenly, his cell phone pinged. He pushed the door shut and raced towards where it lay on the couch.   
  
"Doesn't matter," he muttered, reading the text message, "She found me." Despite his exasperation with her, a nostalgic smile formed on his lips as he read: "Scooby meeting," at the top of her text.   
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
Xander whistled as he got into the fancy elevator. Whoever Buffy was staying with must be loaded, living in a big shiny building in the heart of downtown San Francisco. What he couldn't figure out was, how Buffy met this person and why did they agree to let her hide in their apartment?   
  
He didn’t have time to ponder on this anymore, since the elevator doors slid open to reveal the widest apartment he'd ever seen. Filled with awe, Xander stepped into the apartment, completely captured by the surreal view of San Francisco's downtown skyline through a wall-sized window. Behind the skyscrapers lay a line of green hills that tied closely to the sea, creating a breathtaking picture he'd never seen in his life.   
  
Buffy jumped up from the couch and greeted him with a grin. "Thanks for coming, Xander."  
  
He saluted her with his left hand fingers. "Why wouldn't I want to come to the nicest flophouse in town?"   
  
His smile faded when he noticed the silky brown hair of the figure sitting on the couch next to the spot Buffy had just vacated. Something swelled inside as he waited for her to acknowledge his presence. The dead silence that fell onto the apartment was all she needed to turn around and look at him. Intense sorrow glistened in her eyes and her face was pensive and withdrawn.   
  
A pang of guilt came over him, clouding his face with sadness. "Hey," he said softly.   
  
Dawn stared at him in silence.   
  
He bit his lower lip when she didn't answer, and then watched Spike take a step forward shielding her face from Xander's view. He was wearing his hated raincoat to protect him from the sun that was already setting behind the hills. Spike nodded to him quietly and, feeling grateful for the distraction, he returned Spike's greeting with a nod of his own.   
  
Behind Spike he caught a glimpse of a man wearing a blue shirt. His shiny black hair and his facial features seemed familiar. Suddenly, Xander’s mind flashed back to the night he, Buffy and Spike had witnessed a bunch of vampires chasing a man into an alley. His eye grew wide with shock. "It's you," he cried out, pointing a shaky finger at the man. "You're the guy behind the vampire bodies."  
  
Buffy moved swiftly to stand next to the man. "Xander, this is Severin. This is his apartment."  
  
Xander blinked at her calm expression, his mind unable to comprehend what was going on.  _This_  was the guy the police were supposed to be after. "But… the police are framing you for his crimes."  
  
"He's the topic of our next Scooby meeting," Buffy pressed, closing the discussion. "We've got another, more urgent issue at hand."  
  
Worry lines creased his brow. "Another issue?"  
  
"Vampires," Severin said, pumping his fist for emphasis. "They're meaner, faster, stronger and drool a lot more than usual."  
  
"We don't drool, you ponce," Spike gritted out. "We only let our saliva run when we feed."  
  
Xander was so taken aback by Severin talking at all, that he hadn't concentrated on what he had said. "The huh?"  
  
"They're talking about newly sired vampires," Dawn said quietly, but her face was turned the other way and all Xander could see was the back of her head.   
  
"Apparently, they're on steroids," Spike added with a grunt, shooting Severin looks of distrust.   
  
Xander looked between them all, feeling his confusion dissolving into frustration. "Need I remind you all that I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed?"  
  
Buffy sighed. "Seems that everyone who's been turned, since the seed was destroyed, is a zombie vampire."   
  
Xander looked at her, impressed. If she had been wearing a pair of glasses, she'd have gotten the ‘aggravated Giles’ role down to a T. "So, let me get this straight. Because the seed is broken, vampires can't sire sane vampires anymore, but they can sire dumb drooling zompires?"   
  
Buffy nodded. "Basically."  
  
Spike's brows were drawn together. "Sane vampires?"  
  
Xander lifted his eyebrows at him.   
  
Spike pursed his lips, considering his remark, and then let it be.   
  
Xander turned to Buffy again. "I still don't get it. Does the loss of magic have something to do with it?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I have no clue."  
  
His lips formed a lopsided smile. "You and I were never the best in research school. Didn't you call Willow?"  
  
"She didn't pick up," Buffy said. "I didn't expect her to. She's off on a mission."  
  
"A mission?" Something inside Xander brightened. "You know where Willow is."  
  
"Not exactly. But a couple of nights ago we worked out a way to…" She glanced at Severin. "Talk about it later?"   
  
Xander nodded, but he couldn't help the resentment building inside him. Buffy and Willow had been having Scooby nights together, which he shouldn't get upset about considering his break up with Dawn. Buffy couldn't have him in her apartment while Dawn was there. But… why didn't Willow talk to him about this? Why must she always go AOWL without letting him in on her reasons? Why didn't she even call to say goodbye? Learning that she'd left town through her voice machine was the harshest slap he'd ever received.   
  
He inhaled a comforting breath, looking at the people surrounding him. With Willow out of the picture, the gang was just Buffy, Xander and Spike. He glanced at Dawn, who was still looking away, and figured she was mostly here to make sure Buffy was all right. There was a huge void in his chest as he thought of the old Scooby members who had died for the cause. Giles, thinking about him made his heart bleed with grief, it was easier to believe Giles was away in England and that he'd come back when the stakes got high.   
  
A thought crossed his mind when he thought about Giles. "What about your Vampyer book? The one Giles left you?"  
  
Dawn stood up suddenly and turned around to face him. "It's in the apartment." She looked at Buffy. "I wish you told me, I'd have brought it over."   
  
"Have you talked to the police?" Xander asked with concern, as he pictured her squirming in front of the detectives the way he'd done, lying to them about her sister's whereabouts.   
  
"No, Anaheed told me the police came over."   
  
He felt a sense of relief, hearing that. "Where were you?"   
  
Lines of anger rippled around the edges of her face. "That's not your business anymore."  
  
His face went rigidly blank before a stiff smile spread over it. "Right." He hadn’t thought about it but he must have sounded like a controlling jerk. Something inside swelled painfully and he wished he hadn't come over.   
  
Feeling the tension rising in the room, Buffy stepped between them with a perky smile. "No biggie. We can figure this out without Willow's help." She clasped Dawn's shoulder and smiled at her sister. "Just need to get the book from the apartment."  
  
Dawn nodded, hastily snatching her purse from the couch and hurrying toward the still open elevator. "On it."  
  
Xander's gaze followed her as she dashed inside, so desperate to leave the place with him around. Their eyes met as she stood inside, intense with emotion, the doors sliding shut broke the eye contact, and Xander was left with a hollow feeling inside.   
  
He tensed when he heard Spike's voice whispering, "Buffy, can I have a word?" He watched Spike leading Buffy toward the giant window to talk privately. The landscape behind them was spectacular as the green hills disappeared into the blue of the sea.   
  
Xander heaved out a long breath, damping down on the painful emotions swarming inside him. He glanced at Severin, who was eying Buffy and Spike with interest. He looked harmless, easily mistaken for a normal guy, if no one knew he had the power to turn vampires into human dead corpses.   
  
"So. Great view," Xander said, wanting desperately to forget the awkward moment he'd just had with Dawn.   
  
Severin smiled at him. "The benefit of being a trust-fund kid."  
  
"I see that." Xander looked around the loft and wondered what it would be like having his bedroom, living room, and kitchen in one big room. He had been right. This guy was super powered  _and_  he was loaded. There was a voice inside Xander that nagged constantly to seize the opportunity. He tried to silence it, but it kept nagging. What was worse, it was an Anya voice, very loud and irritating. She had always managed to get him to do whatever she wanted by nagging on and on. Xander smiled fondly, remembering when she'd pushed him to buy the apartment in Sunnydale. He figured he'd trust Anya now as well.   
  
With an unsure glance, he noted Severin looking at Buffy and Spike again. He scratched the back of his neck and then coughed into his fist. He flashed the rich man one of his brightest goofy grins. "Thanks for helping Buffy."  
  
Severin shrugged. "I'm kind of a boy slayer. We slayers have to stick together."  
  
Xander bit on his lip hesitantly. "Would you be interested in helping other slayers?"  
  
Severin wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. Xander started having second thoughts about what he was going to ask, but Anya's nagging voice returned, and he figured he had nothing to lose by asking.   
  
"I need someone to provide bail for four slayers," he blurted out, feeling blood rushing to his cheeks. "If you're interested."  
  
Severin regarded him silently, and Xander wished the earth would swallow him right now. He felt like a gold-digger, which was silly, as he doubted he had anything resembling sexual attraction to Richy Rich over here. But, point being, he'd crossed the line. He just met the guy and he was already asking for favors. He really wished he hadn't said anything.   
  
"I need to think about it," Severin said with a polite smile.   
  
"So, boy slayer," Xander said right away, changing the subject. "How does that work?"  
  
Severin's smile deepened. "I thought that was the topic of the next meeting."  
  
Xander felt his eyebrows gather over the bridge of his nose in a frown. Rowena had looked nervous and scared when she'd talked to him about Severin. There was something about him for sure. He could understand Spike's suspicious stares.   
  
Speaking of Spike, Xander noticed him jerking out of Buffy's grip and storming out of the apartment in a huff.  
  
"Spike," Buffy called after him, her voice sounded exhausted. She rubbed on her forehead when the doors of the elevator closed after him.   
  
Xander could understand Spike's hissy little fit: Buffy shacking up with a good looking fellow; with nifty superpowers; in a large loft; especially with a bed right in sight. Poor guy probably still harboured feelings for the Buffster.   
  
His gaze caught the visible parts of the sun that was sinking into the green hills, and then he walked towards Buffy and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Buff, I think I should go, too."  
  
She smiled up at him. "All right."  
  
He turned around, heading toward the elevator, nodding politely at Severin. His hand went into his pocket and searched for his car keys, but it closed on a small piece of paper. "Oh, I almost forgot," he exclaimed from inside the elevator and jumped out of it before the doors closed. He paced toward Buffy and handed her the card Detective Dowling had given him.   
  
Buffy brought the card close to her face. "The detective's phone number?"  
  
"I think you should call him," Xander said. "The zompire issue can wait. You're all over the news and the cops are after you. It'll make your case worse if you keep running away from them."  
  
Buffy looked up at him, about to object.   
  
"Buffy, stop hiding from reality," Xander said sternly before she could say anything. He pointed behind her at the large window. "Especially when your hideout is made out of glass."   
  
She glared at him. "My track record with the police has never gone in my favor and you know that."  
  
"That was in the past, when vampires were mostly fictional characters played by Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt," Xander argued, satisfied to see her lower her gaze in defeat. The ball was in her court now, and any more pushing from him might send her off to slay vampires or newly sired zompires and get her into more trouble with the law.   
  
As he was again making his way to the elevator, a thought popped into his head. He was on a roll with useful thoughts today. "Hey, how about working with the cops to stop the zompires?"  
  
Buffy looked unsure. "I don't know."  
  
"Think about it." Xander stepped into the elevator, watching the doors slipping shut. "But, seriously, Buffy. Talk to the police."  
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
Blackness had poured into the sky concealing the colors of the sunset completely. The night had fallen in so quickly, making Xander think that if he had stayed in Severin's loft for a couple more minutes he'd have witnessed a lovely view of San Francisco at night. He was snapped out of his musings when a couple walked around the corner, his hand going straight for the stake in his jacket. The sun had just set and there were still a lot of people in the streets, so it was too early to be cautious.   
  
Nonetheless, Xander couldn't afford to be careless. He couldn't trust every passing face, no matter how innocent most of them looked. His gaze fell to the splints on his fingers; he really couldn't afford trusting anyone at this point.   
  
Carefully aware of his surroundings, he started walking toward his car, which was parked a block away from Severin's building. He'd feared he'd be followed by the police and it would have been too appalling if he were the reason for putting another slayer behind bars, especially when that slayer was his best friend.   
  
His breath caught in his throat and Xander froze in place when he noticed someone leaning against his car, a long line of smoke dancing in the air.   
  
Xander forced himself to breathe. It was Spike. There was no need to wet his pants.   
  
He found himself grinning with relief as he walked with more confidence toward his car. He walked around the car to where Spike was standing, releasing a chuckle when he found the raincoat pooled around Spike's feet. "Spike? Didn't you park your bug ship on the roof like usual?"  
  
In a blink of an eye, Spike's strong grip closed on Xander’s shoulders and he found himself slammed against the car. He grunted at the pain, and from his position noticed Spike's cigarette lying on the pavement.   
  
Spike leaned into him, his nose inches away from Xander's face. "I heard what you said to Slayer-wannabe up there."  
  
Nostrils flaring, Xander took a hold of Spike's cold hands and pushed him away from him. "Your point?"  
  
Spike narrowed his eyes at him, a jaw muscle working. "Were you born this dense or do you just love playing blind?"  
  
Xander took a step forward and pushed Spike again. "I'm sick and tired of you talking to me like I’m some little boy."  
  
"Then stop acting like one." Spike pushed him back and unlike Xander, his push was so much stronger that it sent him smacking against his car again.   
  
Cursing under his breath, Xander stared at Spike's pale face, unsure if it went whiter with anger or if it was just his usual white vamp skin. "This is my life, Spike. I do whatever I please. And last time I checked, I did not ask for your opinion."  
  
Spike grabbed Xander's collar, forcing him to look directly in to his angry blue eyes. "If one of your silly little bints even touches a hair on Buffy's head, I'll poke your other eye out and then you'll know what it's like to be really blind."   
  
Slamming him against the car for the third time, Spike picked up his dirty raincoat and strode down the sidewalk.   
  
Xander could feel a black fire burning in his eye, pulling him into a mindless senseless rage. He paced after Spike and grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face his anger. "Shut the hell up!" he barked into his face. "I've known Buffy longer than you. I've helped her more than you'll ever do.  _Stop_  talking to me like you care more about her than I do."  
  
Spike fixed his eyes on him intently, his jaw set in a firm line. "Tuesday at noon I'll be sailing on a boat to Alcatraz Island," he said dryly. "The guy I was looking for is there."  
  
Xander stared at him, his hand releasing its grip on Spike's arm. "Rumor guy? The one after Buffy?"  
  
Spike didn't answer, his hard stare made his point clearly. He turned around and started walking away, leaving Xander frozen in place, shell shocked and stunned.   
  
The vibration in his pocket broke the ice surrounding him, enabling his body to work again. His eye swerved to look down at his cell phone screen and then back up to watch Spike's retreating back. "Hey, Buffy," he whispered, so that Spike wouldn't hear her name.   
  
"It's Severin."  
  
"Oh. Hi."  
  
"I thought about your proposal."  
  
His gaze flicking up at the corner that Spike had disappeared around. "And…"  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
His heart twisted a little, as a stream of overwhelming feelings welled up inside of him. Damn Spike. Whatever feelings of satisfaction and relief Xander had expected to feel hearing Severin's answer was replaced with apprehension and worry. There was also dread. Very faint and small, but it was there. He couldn't really place it, but he hoped by getting the girls out of prison things wouldn't go wrong. He crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~


End file.
